UCSB  LIBRARY 


"  Why,  Swot,'  cried  Constance,  'nobody  is  going  to  kill  you." 
frontispiece.  _  Wanted— A  Matchmaker. 


Wanted — 
a  Matchmaker 


h 

Patil  Leicester  Ford 


Author   of    "Wanted — A    Chaperon," 

"The  Honorable  Peter  Stirling," 

"Janice  Meredith,"  Etc. 


With  Illustrations  by 
Howard  Chandler  Christie 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY,  PUBLISHERS 
NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT,  1900,  BY 

DODD,  MEAD  &  CO. 

FOR  THE  UNITED 

STATES  OF 

AMERICA 


COPYRIGHT,  1900,   BY  HARPER  BROTHERS 
(MORTON  TRUST  COMPANY,  TRUSTEE) 


TO 

BOND    AND    EDITH    THOMAS 

AS 

^4    RECORD 
OF    OUR    FRIENDSHIP 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


" '  Why,  Swot,'  cried  Constance,  '  nobody 

is  going  to  kill  you  '"    .     .     .     Frontispiece 

Facing  pagt 

"  Miss  Durant  sprang  out  and  lifted  the 

head  gently  " v .      20 

"  Constance  took  the  seat  at  the  bedside  "  .      62 

"  '  I  have  come  here  —  I  have  intruded  on 
you,  Miss  Durant,'  hurriedly  began 
the  doctor " 72 

"  The  two  were  quickly  seated  on  the  floor  "    104 


WANTED: 
A  MATCH-MAKER 


OU  understand,    Josie,  that  I 
would  n't  for  a  moment  wish 
Constance  to  marry  without 
being  in  love,  but  —  " 
Mrs.  Durant  hesitated  long  enough  to 
convey  the  inference  that  she  was  un- 
feminine  enough  to  place  a  value  on  her 
own  words,  and  then,  the  pause  having 
led  to  a  change,  or,  at  least,  modification 
of  what  had  almost  found  utterance,  she 
continued,  with  a  touch  of  petulance 
which  suggested  that  the  general  prin- 
ciple had  in  the  mind  of  the  speaker  a 
special  application,  "  It    is  certainly  a 
great  pity  that  the  modern  girl  should 
be  so  unimpressionable  1 " 


"I  understand  and  sympathise  with 
you  perfectly,  dear,"  consolingly  acceded 
Mrs.  Ferguson.  "And  Constance  has 
such  advantages!" 

Quite  unnoting  that  her  friend  replied 
to  her  thought  rather  than  to  her  words, 
Mrs.  Durant  responded  at  once  eagerly, 
yet  defensively :  "  That  is  it.  No  one  will 
deny  that  Muriel  is  quite  Constance's 
equal  in  mind,  and,  though  perhaps  I  am 
not  the  one  to  say  it,  Doris  surely  excels 
her  in  looks.  Don't  you  think  so,  dar- 
ling?" she  added. 

"Unquestionably,"  agreed  the  friend, 
with  much  the  quality  of  firm  prompt- 
ness with  which  one  would  bolt  a 
nauseous  pill,  or  extrude  an  ailing 
oyster. 

"Yet  merely  because  Constance  has 
been  out  so  much  longer,  and  therefore 
is  much  more  experienced,  she  self — 
she  monopolises  the  attentions  of  the 
men;  you  know  she  does,  Josie." 


"Absolutely,"  once  more  concurred 
Mrs.  Ferguson;  and  this  time,  though 
she  spoke  less  quickly,  her  tone  carried 
greater  conviction.  "  They  are — well  — 
she  —  she  undoubtedly — that  is,  she 
contrives  —  somehow  —  to  eclipse,  or  at 
least  overshadow  them." 

"  Exactly.  I  don't  like  to  think  that 
she  manages  —  but  whether  she  does 
or  not,  the  results  are  as  bad  as  if  she 
did ;  and  thoughtlessness  —  if  it  is  only 
that,  which  I  can't  believe  —  is  quite 
as  blamable  as — as  more  intentional 
scheming." 

"  Then  of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Ferguson, 
"every  one  knows  about  her  mother's 
fortune  —  and  men  are  so  mercenary  in 
these  days." 

"  Oh,  Josie,  I  don't  like  to  speak  of 
that  myself,  but  it  is  such  a  relief  to 
have  you  say  it.  That  is  the  whole 
trouble.  What  sort  of  a  chance  have  my 
poor  dears,  who  will  inherit  so  little  com- 


pared  to  her  wealth,  and  that  not  till  — 
till  we  are  through  with  it  —  against 
Constance?  I  call  it  really  shameful 
of  her  to  keep  on  standing  in  their 
light ! " 

"  Have  you  —  Could  n't  you  let  her 
see  —  drop  a  hint  —  of  the  unconscious 
injury  she  is  —  " 

"  That  is  the  cruelty  of  my  position," 
moaned  Mrs.  Durant.  "  I  should  not 
hesitate  a  moment,  but  the  world  is  so 
ill-natured  about  stepmothers  that  one 
has  to  be  over-careful,  and  with  daughters 
of  my  own,  I  'm  afraid  people  —  perhaps 
.  my  own  husband  —  would  think  I  was 
trying  to  sacrifice  her  to  them." 

"But  have  you  no  friend  you  could 
ask  to  —  ?" 

"  Josie !  Would  you  ?  "  eagerly  inter- 
rupted Mrs.  Durant.  "  She  will  be  in- 
fluenced, I  know,  by  anything  you  —  " 

"  Gracious,  my  dear,  I  never  dreamed 
of  —  of  you  asking  me !  Why,  I  don't 


know  her  in  the  least, 
really." 

"  But  for  my  sake  ?  And  you 
know  her  as  well  as  —  as  any  one 
else;  for  Constance  has  no  intimates 
or  —  " 

"  Don't  you  see  that 's  it  ?  I'd  as  soon 
think  of — of —  From  me  she  would 
only  take  it  as  an  impertinence." 

"  I  don't  see  why  everybody  stands  so 
in  awe  of  a  girl  of  twenty-three,  unless 
it's  because  she's  rich,"  querulously 
sighed  Mrs.  Durant. 

"I  don't  think  it's  that,  Anne.  It's 
her  proud  face  and  reserved  manner. 
And  I  believe  those  are  the  real  reasons 
for  her  not  marrying.  However  much 
men  may  admire  her,  they  —  they  — 
Well,  it 's  your  kittenish,  cuddling  kind 
of  a  girl  they  marry." 

"  No ;  you  are  entirely  wrong.  Doubt- 
less it  is  her  money,  but  Constance  has 
had  plenty  of  admirers,  and  if  she  were 


less  self —  if  she  considered  the  interests 
of  the  family  —  she  would  have  married 
years  ago.  But  she  is  wholly  blind  to 
her  duty,  and  checks  or  rebuffs  every 
man  who  attempts  to  show  her  devotion. 
And  just  because  others  take  their 
places,  she  is  puffed  up  into  the  belief 
that  she  is  to  go  through  life  with  an 
everlasting  train  of  would-be  suitors,  and 
so  enjoys  her  own  triumph,  with  never 
a  thought  of  my  girls." 

"  Why  not  ask  her  father  to  speak  to 
her?" 

"  My  dear!  As  if  I  hadn't,  a  dozen 
times  at  the  least." 

"  And  what  does  he  say  ?  " 

"  That  Constance  shows  her  sense  by 
not  caring  for  the  men  /  invite  to  the 
house!  As  if /could  help  it!  Of  course 
with  three  girls  in  the  house  one  must 
cultivate  dancing-men,  and  it's  very 
unfair  to  blame  me  if  they  are  n't  all  one 
could  wish." 


"  I  thought  Constance  gave  up  going 
to  dances  last  winter?  " 

"  She  did,  but  still  I  must  ask  them  to 
my  dinners,  for  if  1  don't  they  won't  show 
Muriel  and  Doris  attention.  Mr.  Durant 
should  realise  that  1  only  do  it  for  their 
sakes ;  yet  to  listen  to  him  you  'd  sup- 
pose it  was  my  duty  to  close  my  doors 
to  dancing-men,  and  spend  my  time 
seeking  out  the  kind  one  never  hears 
of  —  who  certainly  don't  know  how  to 
dance,  and  who  would  either  not  talk  at 
my  dinners,  or  would  lecture  upon  one 
subject  to  the  whole  table  —  just  be- 
cause they  are  what  he  calls  '  purpose- 
ful men.' ' 

"  He  probably  recognises  that  the  so- 
ciety man  is  not  a  marrying  species, 
while  the  other  is." 

"  But  there  are  several  who  would  marry 
Constance  in  a  minute  if  she'd  only  give 
any  one  of  them  the  smallest  encourage- 
ment ;  and  that 's  what  I  mean  when  I 


complain  of  her  being  so  unimpression- 
able. Muriel  and  Doris  like  our  set  of 
men  well  enough,  and  I  don't  see  what 
right  she  has  to  be  so  over-particular." 

Mrs.  Ferguson  rose  and  began  the 
adjustment  of  her  wrap,  while  saying, 
"  It  seems  to  me  there  is  but  one  thing 
for  you  to  do,  Anne." 

"What?"  eagerly  questioned  Mrs. 
Durant. 

"  Indulge  in  a  little  judicious  match- 
making," suggested  the  friend,  as  she 
held  out  her  hand. 

"It's  utterly  useless,  Josie.  I've 
tried  again  and  again,  and  every  time 
have  only  done  harm." 

"How?" 

"She  won't — she  is  so  suspicious. 
Now,  last  winter,  Weston  Curtis  was 
sending  her  flowers  and — and,  oh,  all 
that  sort  of  thing,  and  so  I  invited  him 
to  dinner  several  times,  and  always  put 
him  next  Constance,  and  tried  to  help 


him  in  other  ways,  until  she  —  well, 
what  do  you  think  that  girl  did?" 

Mrs.  Ferguson's  interest  led  her  to 
drop  her  outstretched  hand.  "  Re- 
quested you  not  to?"  she  asked. 

"  Not  one  word  did  she  have  the  grace 
to  say  to  me,  Josie,  but  she  wrote  to 
him,  and  asked  him  not  to  send  her  any 
more  flowers !  Just  think  of  it." 

"  Then  that 's  why  he  went  to 
India." 

"Yes.  Of  course  if  she  had  come 
and  told  me  she  did  n't  care  for  him,  I 
never  would  have  kept  on  inviting  him ; 
but  she  is  so  secretive  it  is  impossible  to 
tell  what  she  is  thinking  about.  I  never 
dreamed  that  she  was  conscious  that  I 
was  trying  to  —  to  help  her ;  and  I  have 
always  been  so  discreet  that  1  think  she 
never  would  have  been  if  Mr.  Durant 
hadn't  begun  to  joke  about  it.  Only 
guess,  darling,  what  he  said  to  me  once 
right  before  her,  just  as  I  thought  1 


was  getting   her  interested  in   young 
Schenck!" 

"  I  can't  imagine." 

"  Oh,  it  was  some  of  his  Wall  Street 
talk  about  promoters  of  trusts  always 
securing  options  on  the  properties  to  be 
taken  in,  before  attempting  a  consoli- 
dation, or  something  of  that  sort.  ( 
should  n't  have  known  what  he  meant 
if  the  boys  had  n't  laughed  and  looked  at 
Constance.  And  then  Jack  made  mat- 
ters worse  by  saying  that  my  interest 
would  be  satisfied  with  common  stock, 
but  Constance  would  only  accept  pre- 
ferred for  hers.  Men  do  blurt  things  out 
so  —  and  yet  they  assert  that  we  women 
have  n't  tongue  discretion.  No,  dear, 
with  them  about  it 's  perfectly  useless  for 
me  to  do  so  much  as  lift  a  finger  to 
marry  Constance  off,  let  alone  her  own 
naturally  distrustful  nature." 

"  Well,  then,  can't  you  get  some  one  to 
do  it  for  you  —  some  friend  ot  hers  ?  " 


"  I  don't  believe  there  is  a  person  in 
the  world  who  could  influence  Con- 
stance as  regards  marriage,"  moaned 
Mrs.  Durant.  "  Don't  think  that  I  want 
to  sacrifice  her,  dear ;  but  she  really  is  n't 
happy  herself — for  —  well  —  she  is  a 
stepdaughter,  you  know  —  and  so  can 
never  quite  be  the  same  in  the  family 
life;  and  now  that  she  has  fired  of 
society,  she  really  doesn't  find  enough 
to  do  to  keep  busy.  Constance  wanted 
to  go  into  the  Settlement  work,  but  her 
father  would  n't  hear  of  it  —  and  really, 
Josie,  every  one  would  be  happier  and 
better  if  she  only  would  marry  —  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon'  for  interrupting 
you,  mama.  I  thought  you  were  alone," 
came  a  voice  from  the  doorway.  "  How 
do  you  do,  Mrs.  Ferguson  ?  " 

"  Oh ! "  ejaculated  both  ladies,  as  they 
looked  up,  to  find  standing  in  the  door- 
way a  handsome  girl,  with  clear-cut 
patrician  features,  and  an  erect  car- 


12 


riage  which  gave  her  an  air  of  marked 
distinction. 

"I  only  stopped  to  ask  about  the 
errand  you  asked  me  to  do  when  I  went' 
out,"  explained  the  girl,  quietly,  as  the 
two  women  hunted  for  something  to  say. 

"  Oh.  Yes.  Thank  you  for  remem- 
bering, darling,"  stammered  Mrs.  Durant, 
finding  her  voice  at  last.  "  Won't  you 
please  order  a  bunch  of  something  sent 
to  Miss  Porter  —  and  —  and  —  I'll  be 
very  much  obliged  if  you  '11  attend  to  it, 
Constance,  my  dear." 

The  girl  merely  nodded  her  head  as  she 
disappeared,  but  neither  woman  spoke 
till  the  front  door  was  heard  to  close, 
when  Mrs.  Durant  exclaimed, "  How  long 
had  she  been  standing  there  ?  " 

"I  don't  know." 

"  I  hope  she  did  n't  hear  1 

"  I  don't  think  she  could  have,  01  she 
would  have  shown  it  more." 

"That  doesn't  mean  anything.    She 


n 

never  shows  anything  outwardly.  And 
really,  though  I  would  n't  purposely  have 
said  it  to  her,  I  'm  not  sure  that  I  hope 
she  didn't  hear  it  —  for  —  well.  I  do 
wish  some  one  would  give  her  just  such 
advice." 

"  My  dear,  it  is  n't  a  case  for  advice ; 
it 's  a  case  for  match-making,"  reiterated 
Mrs.  Ferguson,  as  she  once  more  held 
out  her  hand. 


Meanwhile  Miss  Durant  thoughtfully 
went  down  the  steps  to  her  carriage,  so 
abstracted  from  what  she  was  doing  that 
after  the  footman  tucked  the  fur  robe 
about  her  feet,  he  stood  waiting  for  his 
orders ;  and  finally,  realising  his  mis- 
tress's unconsciousness,  touched  his 
hat  and  asked, — 
"  Where  to,  Miss  Constance  ?  " 
With  a  slight  start  the  girl  came  back 
from  her  meditations,  and,  after  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation,  gave  a  direction. 


14 

Then,  as  the  rnan  mounted  to  his  seat 
and  the  brougham  started,  the  girl's  face, 
which  had  hitherto  been  pale,  suddenly 
flushed,  and  she  leaned  back  in  the  car- 
riage, so  that  no  one  should  see  her 
wipe  her  eyes  with  her  handkerchief. 

"  I  do  wish/'  she  murmured,  with  a 
slight  break  in  her  voice,  "  that  at  least 
mama  would  n't  talk  about  it  to  out- 
siders. I  —  I'd  marry  to-morrow,  just 
to  escape  it  all  —  if — if — a  loveless 
marriage  was  n't  even  worse."  The  girl 
shivered  slightly,  and  laid  her  head 
against  the  cushioned  side,  as  if  weary. 

She  was  still  so  busy  with  her  thoughts 
that  she  failed  to  notice  when  the 
brougham  stopped  at  the  florist's,  and 
once  more  was  only  recalled  to  concrete 
concerns  by  the  footman  opening  the 
door.  The  ordering  of  some  flowers  for 
a  debutante  evidently  steadied  her  and 
allowed  her  to  regain  self-control,  for 
she  drove  in  succession  to  the  jewel- 


'5 

ler's  to  select  a  wedding  gift,  and  to 
the  dressmaker's  for  a  fitting,  at  each 
place  giving  the  closest  attention  to  the 
matter  in  hand.  These  nominal  duties, 
but  in  truth  pleasures,  concluded,  nom- 
inal pleasures,  but  in  truth  duties,  suc- 
ceeded them,  and  the  carriage  halted  at 
four  houses  long  enough  to  ascertain  that 
the  especial  objects  of  Miss  Durant's 
visits  "  begged  to  be  excused,"  or  were 
"  not  at  home,"  each  of  which  pieces  of 
information,  or,  to  speak  more  correctly, 
the  handing  in  by  the  footman,  in  re- 
sponse to  the  information,  of  her  card  or 
cards,  drew  forth  an  unmistakable  sigh 
of  relief  from  that  young  lady.  Evi- 
dently Miss  Durant  was  bored  by  peo- 
ple, and  this  to  those  experienced  in  the 
world  should  be  proof  that  Miss  Durant 
was,  in  fact,  badly  bored  by  herself. 

One  consequence  of  her  escape,  how- 
ever, was  that  the  girl  remained  with  an 
hour  which  must  be  got  through  with 


16 

in  some  manner,  and  so,  in  a  voice  totally 
without  desire  or  eagerness,  she  said, 
"The  Park,  Wallace ;  "  and  in  the  Park 
some  fifty  minutes  were  spent,  her  great- 
est variation  from  the  monotony  of  the 
wonted  and  familiar  roads  being  an  occa- 
sional nod  of  the  head  to  people  driving 
or  riding,  with  a  glance  at  those  with 
each,  or  at  the  costumes  they  wore. 

It  was  with  a  distinct  note  of  antici- 
pation in  her  voice,  therefore,  that  Miss 
Durant  finally  ordered,  "Home,  now, 
Murdock ;  "  and,  if  the  truth  were  to  be 
told,  the  chill  in  her  hands  and  feet,  due 
to  the  keen  November  cold,  with  a  men- 
tal picture  of  the  blazing  wood  fire  of 
her  own  room,  and  of  the  cup  of  tea 
that  would  be  drank  in  front  of  it,  was 
producing  almost  the  first  pleasurable 
prospect  of  the  day  to  her. 

Seemingly  the  coachman  was  as  eager 
to  be  in-doors  as  his  mistress,  for  he 
whipped  up  the  horses,  and  the  carriage 


was  quickly  crossing  the  plaza  and 
speeding  down  the  avenue.  Though  the 
street  was  crowded  with  vehicles  and 
pedestrians,  the  growing  darkness  put 
an  end  to  Miss  Duranfs  nods  of  recog- 
nition, and  she  leaned  back,  once  more 
buried  in  her  own  thoughts. 

At  Forty-second  Street  she  was  sharply 
recalled  from  whatever  her  mind  was 
dwelling  upon  by  a  sudden  jar,  due  to 
the  checking  of  the  carriage,  and  simul- 
taneously with  it  came  the  sound  of 
crashing  of  glass  and  splintering  of 
wood.  So  abrupt  was  the  halt  that  Miss 
Durant  was  pitched  forward,  and  as  she 
put  out  her  hand  to  save  herself  from 
being  thrown  into  the  bottom  of  the 
brougham,  she  caught  a  moment's 
glimpse  of  a  ragged  boy  close  beside  her 
window,  and  heard,  even  above  the 
hurly-burly  of  the  pack  of  carriages  and 
street-crossers,  his  shrill  cry,  — 

"  Extry  Woild  'r  Joinal.    Terrible  —  " 


i8 

There  the  words  ended,  for  the  dis- 
traught horses  shied  backwards  and 
sideways,  and  the  fore  wheel,  swung 
outwards  by  the  sharp  turn,  struck  the 
little  fellow  and  threw  him  down.  Miss 
Durant  attempted  a  warning  cry,  but  it 
was  too  late ;  and  even  as  it  rang  out,  the 
carriage  gave  a  jolt  and  then  a  jar  as  it 
passed  over  the  body.  Instantly  came 
a  dozen  warning  snouts  and  shrieks 
and  curses,  and  the  horses  reared  and 
plunged  wildly,  with  the  new  fright  of 
something  under  their  feet. 

White  with  terror,  the  girl  caught  at 
the  handle,  but  she  did  no  more  than 
throw  open  the  door,  for,  as  if  they 
sprang  from  the  ground,  a  crowd  of  men 
were  pressing  about  the  brougham.  All 
was  confusion  for  a  moment ;  then  the 
tangle  of  vehicles  seemed  to  open  out 
and  the  mob  of  people,  struggling  and 
gesticulating,  fell  back  before  a  police- 
man, while  another,  aided  by  some  one, 


caught  the  heads  of  the  two  horses,  just 
as  the  footman  drew  out  from  under 
their  feet  into  the  cleared  space  some- 
thing which  looked  like  a  bundle  of  rags 
and  newspapers. 

Thinking  of  nothing  save  that  limp 
little  body,  Miss  Durant  sprang  out,  and 
kneeling  beside  it,  lifted  the  head  gently 
into  her  lap,  and  smoothed  back  from 
the  pallid  face  the  unkempt  hair.  "  He 
is  n't  dead,  Wallace  ?  "  she  gasped  out. 

"  I  don't  think  he  is,  Miss  Constance, 
though  he  looks  like  he  was  bad  hurt. 
An',  indeed,  Miss  Constance,  it  was  n't 
Murdock's  fault.  The  coup£  backed 
right  into  our  pole  without  —  " 

"  Here,"  interrupted  a  man's  voice 
from  the  circle  of  spectators,  "  give  him 
this ; "  and  some  one  handed  to  the  girl 
the  cup  of  a  flask  half  full  of  brandy. 
Dipping  her  fingers  into  it,  she  rubbed 
them  across  the  mouth  and  forehead; 
then,  raising  the  head  with  one  of  her 


ao 


arms,  she  parted  the  lips  and  poured  a 
few  drops  between  them. 

"Now,  mum,"  suggested  the  police- 
man. "  Just  you  let  go  of  it,  and  we  '11 
lift  it  to  where  it  can  stay  till  the  ambu- 
lance gets  here." 

"Oh,  don't,"  begged  Miss  Durant. 
"  He  should  n't  be  moved  until  —  " 

"  Like  as  not  it  '11  take  ten  minutes 
to  get  it  here,  and  we  can't  let  the  street 
stay  blocked  like  this." 

"  Ten  minutes ! "  exclaimed  the  girl. 
"  Is  n't  it  possible  —  We  must  get  help 
sooner,  or  he  —  "  She  broke  in  upon  her 
own  words,  "  Lift  him  into  my  carriage, 
and  I'll  take  him  to  the  hospital." 

"Can't  let  you,  miss,"  spoke  up  a 
police  sergeant,  who  meantime  had 
forced  his  way  through  the  crowd. 
"Your  coachman's  got  to  stay  and 
answer  for  this." 

"He  shall,  but  not  now,"  protested 
Miss  Durant.  "  I  will  be  responsible  for 


Miss  Durant  sprang  out  and  lifted  the  head  gently."      Page  20. 

—  Wan  tee) —A  Matchmaker. 


him.  Wallace,  give  them  one  of  my 
cards  from  the  case  in  the  carriage." 

The  officer  took  the  bit  of  pasteboard 
and  looked  at  it.  "  That 's  all  right, 
miss/'  he  said.  "  Here,  Casey,  together 
now  and  easy." 

The  two  big  men  in  uniform  lifted 
the  urchin  as  if  he  were  without  weight, 
and  laid  him  as  gently  as  might  be  on 
the  seat  of  the  brougham.  This  done, 
the  roundsman  dropped  the  small  front 
seat,  helped  Miss  Durant  in,  and  once  she 
was  seated  upon  it,  took  his  place  beside 
her.  The  sergeant  closed  the  door,  gave 
an  order  to  the  coachman,  and,  wheeling 
about,  the  carriage  turned  up  the  avenue, 
followed  by  the  eyes  of  the  crowd  and 
by  a  trail  of  the  more  curious. 

"Better  give  it  another  swig,  mum," 
counselled  her  companion ;  and  the  girl, 
going  on  her  knees,  raised  the  head,  and 
administered  a  second  swallow  of  the 
brandy.  She  did  not  resume  her  seat, 


but  kept  her  arm  about  the  boy,  in  an 
attempt  to  render  his  position  easier.  It 
was  a  wizened,  pinched  little  face  she 
gazed  down  at,  and  now  the  mouth  was 
drawn  as  if  there  was  physical  suffering, 
even  in  the  unconsciousness.  Neither 
head  nor  hands  had  apparently  ever 
known  soap,  but  the  dirt  only  gave 
picturesqueness,  and,  indeed,  to  Miss 
Durant  an  added  pathos ;  and  the  tears 
came  into  her  eyes  as  she  noted  that 
under  the  ragged  coat  was  only  a  flimsy 
cotton  shirt,  so  bereft  of  buttons  that 
the  whole  chest  was  exposed  to  the  cold 
which  but  a  little  while  before  the  girl, 
clad  in  furs  and  sheltered  by  the  car- 
riage, had  yet  found  so  nipping.  She 
raised  her  free  hand  and  laid  it  gently 
on  the  exposed  breast,  and  slightly 
shivered  as  she  felt  how  little  warmth 
there  was. 

"  Please  put  the  fur  rug  over  him,"  she 
requested ;  and  her  companion  pulled  it 


from  under  their  feet,  and  laid  it  over 
the  coiled-up  legs  and  body. 

The  weight,  or  the  second  dose  of  the 
stimulant,  had  an  effect,  for  Miss  Durant 
felt  the  body  quiver,  and  then  the  eyes 
unclosed.  At  first  they  apparently  saw 
nothing,  but  slowly  the  dulness  left 
them,  and  they,  and  seemingly  the  whole 
face,  sharpened  into  comprehension,  and 
then,  as  they  fastened  on  the  blue  coat 
of  the  policeman,  into  the  keenest  appre- 
hension. 

"  Say,"  he  moaned,  "  I  did  n't  do  nut- 
tin',  dis  time,  honest." 

"I  ain't  takin'  you  to  the  station- 
house,"  denied  the  officer,  colouring  and 
looking  sideways  at  his  companion. 

"  You  were  run  over,  and  we  are 
carrying  you  to  where  a  doctor  can  see 
how  much  you  are  hurt,"  said  the  girl, 
gently. 

The  eyes  of  the  boy  turned  to  hers, 
and  the  face  lost  some  of  its  fright  and 


suspicion.  "  Is  dat  on  de  level?"  he  asked, 
after  a  moment's  scrutiny.  "  Youse  oin't 
runnin'  me  in  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Miss  Durant  "  We 
are  taking  you  to  the  hospital." 

"  De  horspital !  "  exclaimed  the  little 
chap,  his  eyes  brightening.  "Is  Ise  in 
de  rattler?" 

"  The  what  ?  "  asked  Constance. 

"  De  rattler,"  repeated  the  questioner, 
"  de  ding-dong." 

"No,  you  ain't  in  no  ambulance," 
spoke  up  the  officer.  "  You  Ye  in  this 
young  lady's  carriage." 

The  look  of  hope  and  pride  faded 
out  of  the  boy's  face.  "Ise  oin't  playin' 
in  no  sorter  luck  dese  days,"  he  sighed. 
Suddenly  the  expression  of  alarm  re- 
appeared in  his  face.  "Wheer's  me 
papes  ?  " 

"  They  're  all  right.  Don't  you  work 
yourself  up  over  them,"  said  the  rounds- 
man, heartily. 


"Youse  didn't  let  de  udder  newsies 
swipe  dei.i,  did  youse  ?  "  the  lad  appealed 
anxiously. 

"  I  '11  pay  you  for  every  one  you  lost," 
offered  Constance.  "How  many  did 
you  have?" 

The  ragamuffin  stared  at  her  for  a 
moment,  his  face  an  essence  of  disbelief. 

"Ah,  hell  I"  he  ejaculated.  "Wot's 
dis  song  an'  dance  youse  givin'  us  ?  " 

"  Really,  1  will,"  insisted  the  girl.  She 
reached  back  of  her  and  took  her  purse 
from  the  rack,  and  as  well  as  she  could 
with  her  one  hand  opened  it. 

The  sight  of  the  bills  and  coin  brought 
doubt  to  the  sceptic.  "Say,"  he  de- 
manded, his  eyes  burning  with  avidity, 
"does  youse  mean  dat?  Dere  oin't  no 
crawl  in  dis?" 

"  No.  How  much  were  they  worth  ?" 

The  boy  hesitated,  and  scanned  her 
face,  as  if  he  were  measuring  the  girl 
more  than  he  was  his  loss.  "  Dere  wuz 


26 

w'mtyjoinals,"  he  said,  speaking  slowly, 
and  his  eyes  watching  her  as  2  cat  might 
a  mouse, "  an' — an'  —  twintyM/oilds  — 
an'  —  an'tirty  Telegrams— an' — an'  — 
He  drew  a  fresh  breath,  as  if  needing 
strength,  shot  an  apprehensive  glance  at 
the  roundsman,  and  went  on  hurriedly,  in 
a  lower  voice, "  an'  tirty-five  Posts  —  " 

"  Ah,  g'long  with  you,"  broke  in  the 
policeman,  disgustedly.  "  He  did  n't 
have  mor'n  twenty  in  all,  that  I  know." 

"  Hope  1  may  die  if  Ise  did  n't  have  all 
dem  papes,  boss,"  protested  the  boy. 

"  You  deserve  to  be  run  in,  that s 
what  you  do,"  asserted  the  officer  of  the 
law,  angrily. 

"Oh,  don't  threaten  him,"  begged 
Miss  Durant. 

"  Don't  you  be  fooled  by  him,  mum. 
He  ain't  the  kind  as  sells  Posts,  an'  if 
he  was,  he  would  n't  have  more'n  five." 

"  It 's  de  gospel  trute  Ise  chuckin'  at 
youse  dis  time,"  asserted  the  youngster. 


9 


37 

"Gospel  Ananias  — !"  began  the 
officer. 

"Never  mind,"  interrupted  Miss 
Durant.  "Would  ten  dollars  pay  for 
them  all?" 

"Ah,  I  know'd  youse  wuz  tryin'  to 
stuff  me,"  dejectedly  exclaimed  the  boy ; 
then,  in  an  evident  attempt  to  save  his 
respect  for  his  own  acuteness,  he  added : 
"  But  youse  did  n't.  I  seed  de  goime 
youse  wuz  settin'  up  right  from  de 
start." 

Out  of  the  purse  Constance,  with 
some  difficulty,  drew  a  crisp  ten-dollar 
bill,  the  boy  watching  the  one-handed 
operation  half  doubtingly  and  half 
eagerly ;  and  when  it  was  finally 
achieved,  at  the  first  movement  of  her 
hand  toward  him,  his  arm  shot  out,  and 
the  money  was  snatched,  more  than 
taken.  With  the  quick  motion,  how- 
ever, the  look  of  eagerness  and  joy 
changed  to  one  of  agony;  he  gave  a 


38 

sharp  cry,  and,  despite  the  grime,  the 
cheeks  whitened  perceptibly. 

"Oh,  please  stay  quiet,"  implored 
Miss  Durant.  "  You  must  n't  move." 

"  Hully  gee,  but  dat  hurted  !  "  gasped 
the  youngster,  yet  clinging  to  the  new 
wealth.  He  lay  quiet  for  a  few  breaths ; 
then,  as  if  he  feared  the  sight  of  the  bill 
might  in  time  tempt  a  change  of  mind 
in  the  giver,  he  stole  the  hand  to  his 
trousers  pocket  and  endeavoured  to 
smuggle  the  money  into  it,  his  teeth  set, 
but  his  lips  trembling,  with  the  pain  the 
movement  cost  him. 

Not  understanding  the  fear  in  the 
boy's  mind,  Constance  put  her  free  hand 
down  and  tried  to  assist  him;  but  the 
instant  he  felt  her  fingers,  his  tightened 
violently.  "  Youse  guv  it  me,"  he  wailed. 
"  Did  n't  she  guv  it  me  ? "  he  appealed 
desperately  to  the  policeman. 

"I'm  only  trying  to  help  put  it  in 
your  pocket,"  explained  the  girl. 


youseself  1    exclaimed 
temptuously.    "  Dat 


"What  doesn't  go?"  bewilderedly 
questioned  Miss  Durant. 

"Wotcher  tink  youse  up  aginst? 
Suttin'  easy  ?  Well,  I  guess  not  1  Youse 
don't  get  youse  pickers  in  me  pocket  on 
dat  racket." 

"  She  ain't  goin'  to  take  none  of  your 
money  1 "  asserted  the  policeman,  Indig- 
nantly. "  Can't  you  tell  a  real  lady  when 
you  see  her  ?  " 

"Den  let  her  quit  tryin'  to  go  tru 
me/'  protested  the  anxious  capitalist; 
and  Constance  desisted  from  her  misin- 
terpreted attempt,  with  a  laugh  which 
died  as  the  little  fellow,  at  last  successful 
in  his  endeavour  to  secrete  the  money, 
moaned  again  at  the  pain  it  cost  him. 

"  Shall  we  never  get  there  ?  "  she  de- 
manded impatiently,  and,  as  if  an  answer 
were  granted  her,  the  carriage  slowed, 


30 

and  turning,  passed  into  a  porte-cochere, 
in  which  the  shoes  of  the  horses  rang 
out  sharply,  and  halted. 

"  Stay  quiet  a  bit,  mum,"  advised  the 
policeman,  as  he  got  out ;  and  Constance 
remained,  still  supporting  the  urchin, 
until  two  men  with  a  stretcher  appeared, 
upon  which  they  lifted  the  little  sufferer, 
who  screamed  with  pain  that  even  this 
gentlest  of  handling  cost  him. 

Her  heart  wrung  with  sympathy  for 
him,  Miss  Durant  followed  after  them 
into  the  reception-ward.  At  the  door 
she  hesitated,  in  doubt  as  to  whether  it 
was  right  or  proper  for  her  to  follow,  till 
the  sight  of  a  nurse  reassured  her,  and 
she  entered ;  but  her  boldness  carried  her 
no  farther  than  to  stand  quietly  while  the 
orderlies  set  down  the  litter.  Without 
a  moment's  delay  the  nurse  knelt  beside 
the  boy,  and  with  her  scissors  began 
slitting  up  the  sleeves  of  the  tattered 
coat. 


"  Hey !  Wotcher  up  to  ?  "  demanded 
the  waif,  suspiciously. 

"  I  'm  getting  you  ready  for  the  doc- 
tor,"  said  the  nurse,  soothingly.  "  It 's 
all  right." 

"  'T  oin't  nuttin'  of  de  sort,"  moaned 
the  boy.  "  Youse  spoilin'  me  does,  an' 
if  youse  wuz  n't  a  loidy,  you  'd  get  youse 
face  poked  in,  dat  's  wot  would  happen 
to  youse." 

Constance  came  forward  and  laid  her 
hand  on  the  little  fellow's  cheek.  "  Don't 
mind,"  she  said, "  and  I  '11  give  you  a  new 
suit  of  clothes." 

"  Wen  ? "  came  the  quick  question. 

"  To-morrow." 

"  Does  youse  mean  dat  ?  Honest  ? 
Dere  oin't  no  string  to  dis  ?  " 

"  Honest,"  echoed  the  girl,  heartily. 

Reassured,  the  boy  lay  quietly  while  the 
nurse  completed  the  dismemberment  of 
the  ragged  coat,  the  apology  for  a  shirt, 
and  the  bit  of  twine  which  served  in  lieu 


r 


of  suspenders.  But  the 
on  the  trousers, 


moment  she  began 
wail  was  renewed. 


"  Quit,  I  say,  or  I  '11  soak  de  two  of 
youse ;  see  if  I  don't.  Ah,  won't 
youse  —  "  The  words  became  inarticu- 
late howls  which  the  prayers  and  assur- 
ances of  the  two  women  could  not  lessen. 

"  Now,  then,  stop  this  noise  and  tell 
me  what  is  the  matter,"  ordered  a  mas- 
culine voice ;  and  turning  from  the  boy, 
Constance  found  a  tall,  strong-featured 
man  with  tired-looking  eyes  standing  at 
the  other  side  of  the  litter. 

Hopeful  that  the  diversion  might  mean 
assistance,  the  waif's  howls  once  more 
became  lingual.  "  Dey  's  tryin'  to  swipe 
me  money,  boss,"  he  whined.  "  Hope  1 
may  die  if  deys  oin't/' 

"  And  where  is  your  money  ?  "  asked 
the  doctor. 

"Wotcher  want  to  know  for?"  de- 
manded the  urchin,  with  recurrent  sus- 
picion in  his  face. 


"It's  in  the  pocket  of  his  trousers, 
Dr.  Armstrong,"  said  the  nurse. 

Without  the  slightest  attempt  to  re- 
assure the  boy,  the  doctor  forced  loose 
the  boy's  hold  on  the  pocket,  and  insert- 
ing his  hand,  drew  out  the  ten-dollar 
bill  and  a  medley  of  small  coins. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  "  I  've  taken  your 
money,  so  they  can't.  Understand  ?  " 

The  urchin  began  to  snivel. 

"  Ah,  you  have  no  right  to  be  so  cruel 
to  him,"  protested  Miss  Durant.  "  It 's 
perfectly  natural.  Just  think  how  we 
would  feel  if  we  did  n't  understand." 

The  doctor  fumbled  for  his  eye-glasses, 
but  not  finding  them  quickly  enough, 
squinted  his  eyelids  in  an  endeavour  to 
see  the  speaker.  "  And  who  are  you  ?  " 
he  demanded. 

"  Why,  I  am  —  that  is  —  I  am  Miss 
Durant,  and  —  "  stuttered  the  girl. 

Not  giving  her  time  to  finish  her 
speech,  Dr.  Armstrong  asked,  "  Why  are 

+r       mi  / 


you  here?"  while  searching  for  his 
glasses. 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  intrude,"  explained 
Constance,  flushing,  "only  it  was  my 
fault,  and  it  hurts  me  to  see  him  suffer 
more  than  seems  necessary." 

Abandoning  the  search  for  his  glasses, 
and  apparently  unheeding  of  her  expla- 
nation, the  doctor  began  a  hasty  exami- 
nation of  the  now  naked  boy,  passing  his 
hand  over  trunk  and  limbs  with  a  firm 
touch  that  paid  no  heed  to  the  child's 
outcries,  though  each  turned  the  onlooker 
faint  and  cold. 

Her  anxiety  presently  overcoming  the 
sense  of  rebuke,  the  overwrought  girl 
asked,  "  He  will  live,  won't  he  ?  " 

The  man  straightened  up  from  his  ex- 
amination. "  Except  for  some  contu- 
sion," he  replied,  "it  apparently  is  only 
a  leg  and  a  couple  of  ribs  broken."  His 
voice  and  manner  conveyed  the  idea  that 
legs  and  ribs  were  but  canes  and  corsets. 


9    t> 


"  Take  him  into  the  accident  ward,"  he 
directed  to  the  orderlies,  "  and  I  '11  at- 
tend to  him  presently." 

"  I  will  not  have  this  boy  neglected," 
Constance  said,  excitedly  and  warmly. 
"Furthermore,  1  insist  that  he  receive 
instant  treatment,  and  not  wait  your 
convenience." 

Once  again  Dr.  Armstrong  began  feel- 
ing for  his  glasses,  as  he  asked,  "Are 
you  connected  with  this  hospital,  Miss 
Durant?" 

"  No,  but  it  was  my  carriage  ran  over 
him,  and — " 

"  And  is  it  because  you  ran  over  the 
boy,  Miss  Durant,"  he  interrupted, "  that 
you  think  it  is  your  right  to  come  here 
and  issue  instructions  for  our  treatment 
of  him?" 

"It  is  every  one's  right  to  see  that 
assistance  is  given  to  an  injured  person 
as  quickly  as  possible,"  retorted  the  girl, 
though  flushing,  "  and  to  protest  if  hu- 


f  * 


36 

man  suffering,  perhaps  life  itself,  is  made 
to  wait  the  convenience  of  one  who  is 
paid  to  save  both." 

Finally  discovering  and  adjusting  his 
glasses,  Dr.  Armstrong  eyed  Miss  Durant 
with  a  quality  of  imperturbability  at 
once  irritating  and  embarrassing.  "I 
beg  your  pardon  for  the  hasty  remark  I 
just  made,"  he  apologised.  "  Not  having 
my  second  sight  at  command,  I  did  not 
realise  I  was  speaking  to  so  young  a  girl, 
and  therefore  I  allowed  myself  to  be 
offended,  which  was  foolish.  If  you 
choose  to  go  with  the  patient,  I  trust  you 
will  satisfy  yourself  that  no  one  in  this 
hospital  is  lacking  in  duty  or  kindness." 

With  a  feeling  much  akin  to  that  she 
had  formerly  suffered  at  the  conclusion 
of  her  youthful  spankings,  Constance 
followed  hurriedly  after  the  orderlies, 
only  too  thankful  that  a  reason  had  been 
given  her  permitting  an  escape  from  those 
steady  eyes  and  amused  accents,  which 


she  was  still  feeling  when  the  litter  was 
set  down  beside  an  empty  bed. 

"  Has  dat  slob  tooken  me  money  for 
keeps  ?  "  whimpered  the  boy  the  moment 
the  orderlies  had  departed. 

"  No,  no,"  Constance  assured  him,  her 
hand  in  his. 

"  Den  w'y  'd  he  pinch  it  so  quick  ?  " 

"  He 's  going  to  take  care  of  it  for  you, 
that 'sail." 

"  Will  he  guv  me  a  wroten  pape  sayin' 
dat?" 

"  See,"  said  the  girl,  only  eager  to  re- 
lieve his  anxiety,  "  here  is  my  purse,  and 
there  is  a  great  deal  more  money  in  it 
than  you  had,  and  I  '11  leave  it  with  you, 
and  if  he  does  n't  return  you  your  money, 
why,  you  shall  have  mine." 

"Youse  cert'in  dere's  more  den  Ise 
had?" 

"Certain.  Look,  here  are  two  tens 
and  three  fives  and  a  one,  besides  some 
change." 


"  Dat 's  all  hunky ! "  joyfully  ejaculated 
the  urchin.  "  Now,  den,  wheer  kin  we 
sneak  it  so  he  don't  git  his  hooks 
on  it  ?  " 

"This  is  to  be  your  bed,  and  let's 
hide  it  under  the  pillow,"  suggested 
Constance,  feeling  as  if  she  were  play- 
ing a  game.  "  Then  you  can  feel  of  it 
whenever  you  want." 

"  Dat 's  de  way  to  steal  a  base  off  'im," 
acceded  the  waif.  "We'll  show  dese 
guys  wese  oin't  no  bunch  of  easy 
grapes." 

Scarcely  was  the  purse  concealed  when 
a  nurse  appeared  with  a  pail  of  water 
and  rolls  of  some  cloth,  and  after  her 
came  the  doctor. 

"  Now,  my  boy,"  he  said,  with  a  kind- 
ness and  gentleness  in  his  voice  which 
surprised  Constance,  "  I  Ve  got  to  hurt 
you  a  little,  and  let 's  see  how  brave  you 
can  be."  He  took  hold  of  the  left  leg 
at  the  ankle  and  stretched  it,  at  the  same 


39 

time  manipulating  the  calf  with  the  fin- 
gers of  his  other  hand. 

The  boy  gave  a  cry  of  pain,  and 
clutched  Constance's  arm,  squeezing 
it  so  as  to  almost  make  her  scream ;  but 
she  set  her  teeth  determinedly  and  took 
his  other  hand  in  hers. 

At  a  word  the  nurse  grasped  the  limb 
and  held  it  as  it  was  placed,  while  the 
doctor  took  one  of  the  rolls,  and,  dipping 
it  in  the  water,  unrolled  it  round  and 
round  the  leg,  with  a  rapidity  and  deft- 
ness which  had,  to  Constance,  a  quality 
of  fascination  in  it.  A  second  wet  band- 
age was  wound  over  the  first,  then  a  dry 
one,  and  the  leg  was  gently  laid  back  on 
the  litter.  "  Take  his  temperature,"  or- 
dered the  doctor,  as  he  began  to  apply 
strips  of  adhesive  plaster  to  the  injured 
ribs;  and  though  it  required  some  per- 
suasion by  the  nurse  and  Constance,  the 
invalid  finally  was  persuaded  to  let  the 
little  glass  lie  under  his  tongue.  His 


task  completed,  Dr.  Armstrong  withdrew 
the  tube  and  glanced  at  it. 

"  Dat  medicine  oin't  got  much  taste, 
boss,"  announced  the  urchin,  cheerfully, 

but  it  soytenly  done  me  lots  of  good." 

The  doctor  looked  up  at  Constance 
with  a  pleasant  smile.  "There's  both 
the  sense  and  the  nonsense  of  the  Chris- 
tian Science  idiocy,"  he  said ;  and  half 
in  response  to  his  smile  and  half  in  ner- 
vous relief,  Constance  laughed  merrily. 

"  I  am  glad  for  anything  that  makes 
him  feel  better,"she  replied ;  then,  colour- 
ing once  more,  she  added,  "  and  will  you 
let  me  express  my  regret  for  my  impul- 
sive words  a  little  while  ago,  and  my 
thanks  to  you  for  relieving  the  suffering 
for  which  I  am,  to  a  certain  extent,  re- 
sponsible ?  " 

"  There  is  no  necessity  for  either,  Miss 
Durant,  though  I  am  grateful  for  both," 
he  replied. 

"  Will  there  be  much  suffering  ?  " 


3 


4* 

"Probably  no  more  than  ordinarily 
occurs  in  such  simple  fractures,"  said 
the  doctor ;  "  and  we  '11  certainly  do  our 
best  that  there  shall  not  be." 

"  And  may  I  see  him  to-morrow  ?  " 

"Certainly,  if  you  come  between 
eleven  and  one." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Constance.  "  And 
one  last  favour.  Will  you  tell  me  the 
way  to  my  carriage?" 

"  If  you  will  permit  me,  I  '11  see  you 
to  it,"  offered  Dr.  Armstrong. 

With  an  acknowledgment  of  the  head, 
Constance  turned  and  took  the  boy's 
hand  and  said  a  good-bye. 

"Do  you  suppose  all  newsboys  are 
so  dreadfully  sharp  and  suspicious?" 
she  asked  of  her  guide,  as  they  began  to 
descend  the  stairs,  more  because  she  was 
conscious  that  he  was  eyeing  her  with 
steady  scrutiny  than  for  any  other  reason. 

"  I  suppose  the  life  is  closer  to  that  of 
the  wild  beast  than  anything  we  have  in 


42 

so-called  civilisation.  Even  a  criminal 
has  his  pals,  but,  like  the  forest  animal, 
every  one  —  even  his  own  kind  —  is  an 
enemy  to  the  street  waif." 

"It  must  be  terrible  to  suspect  and 
fear  even  kindness,"  sighed  the  girl,  with 
a  slight  shudder.  "  I  shall  try  to  teach 
him  what  it  means." 

"There  does  not  appear  to  be  any 
carriage  here,  Miss  Durant,"  announced 
her  escort. 

"  Surely  there  must  be.  The  men  can't 
have  been  so  stupid  as  not  to  wait !  " 

The  doctor  tapped  on  the  window  of 
the  lodge.  "  Did  n't  this  lady's  carriage 
remain  here  ?  "  he  asked,  when  the  porter 
had  opened  it. 

"It  stayed  till  the  policeman  came 
down,  doctor.  He  ordered  it  to  go  to 
the  police-station,  and  got  in  it." 

"I  forgot  that  my  coachman  must 
answer  for  the  accident.  Is  there  a 
cab-stand  near  here?" 


4* 

Dr.  Armstrong  looked  into  her  eyes, 
with  an  amusement  which  yet  did  not 
entirely  obliterate  the  look  of  admiration, 
of  which  the  girl  was  becoming  more 
and  more  conscious.  "  The  denizens 
of  Avenue  A  have  several  cab-stands,  of 
course,"  he  replied,  "  but  they  prefer  to 
keep  them  over  on  Fifth  Avenue." 

"  It  was  a  foolish  question,  I  suppose," 
coldly  retorted  Constance,  quite  as  moved 
thereto  by  the  scrutiny  as  by  the  words, 
"but  I  did  not  even  notice  where  the 
carriage  was  driving  when  we  came  here. 
Can  you  tell  me  the  nearest  car  line  which 
will  take  me  to  Washington  Square?" 

"As  it  is  five  blocks  away,  and  the 
neighbourhood  is  not  of  the  nicest,  I 
shall  take  the  liberty  of  walking  with 
you  to  it." 

"  Really,  I  would  rather  not.  I  have  n't 
the  slightest  fear,"  protested  the  girl, 
eager  to  escape  both  the  observation  and 
the  obligation. 


44 


"  But  I  have,"  calmly  said  her  com- 
panion, as  if  his  wish  were  the  only 
thing  to  be  considered. 

For  a  moment  Miss  Durant  vacillated, 
then,  with  a  very  slight  inclination  of  her 
head,  conveying  the  smallest  quantity 
of  consent  and  acknowledgment  she 
could  express,  she  walked  out  of  the 
porte-cochere. 

The  doctor  put  himself  beside  her,  and 
they  turned  down  the  street,  but  not  one 
word  did  she  say.  "  If  he  will  force  his 
society  upon  me,  I  will  at  least  show  him 
my  dislike  of  it,"  was  her  thought. 

Obviously  Dr.  Armstrong  was  not  dis- 
turbed by  Miss  Durant's  programme,  for 
the  whole  distance  was  walked  in  silence ; 
and  even  when  they  halted  on  the  corner, 
he  said  nothing,  though  the  girl  was 
conscious  that  his  eyes  still  studied  her 
face. 

"  I  will  not  be  the  first  to  speak,"  she 
vowed  to  herself ;  but  minute  after  min- 


5?T 

iT  I  ' 


4! 

ute  passed  without  the  slightest  attempt 
or  apparent  wish  on  his  part,  and  finally 
she  asked,  "Are  you  sure  this  line  is 
running?" 

Her  attendant  pointed  up  the  street. 
"  That  yellow  light  is  your  car.  I  don't 
know  why  the  intervals  are  so  long  this 
evening.  Usually  —  " 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  girl  sud- 
denly clutching  at  her  dress,  and  then 
giving  an  exclamation  of  real  conster- 
nation. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  questioned. 

"  Why,  I  —  nothing  —  that  is,  I  think 
—  I  prefer  to  walk  home,  after  all,"  she 
stammered. 

"You  mustn't  do  that.  It's  over 
two  miles,  and  through  a  really  rough 
district." 

"  I  choose  to,  none  the  less,"  answered 
Constance,  starting  across  the  street. 

"Then  you  will  have  to  submit  to 
my  safeguard  for  some  time  longer, 


Miss  Durant,"  asserted  the  doctor,  as 
he  overtook  her. 

Constance  stopped.  "  Dr.  Armstrong," 
she  said,  "  I  trust  you  will  not  insist  on 
accompanying  me  farther,  when  I  tell  you 
I  have  n't  the  slightest  fear  of  anything." 

"  You  have  no  fear,  Miss  Durant,"  he 
answered,  "  because  you  are  too  young 
and  inexperienced  to  even  know  the 
possibilities.  This  is  no  part  of  the 
city  for  you  to  walk  alone  in  after  dark. 
Your  wisest  course  is  to  take  a  car,  but 
if  you  prefer  not,  you  had  best  let  me 
go  with  you." 

"  I  choose  not  to  take  a  car,"  replied 
the  girl,  warmly,  "  and  you  have  no  right 
to  accompany  me  against  my  wish." 

Dr.  Armstrong  raised  his  hat.  "  I  beg 
your  pardon.  I  did  not  realize  that  my 
presence  was  not  desired,"  he  said. 

Angry  at  both  herself  and  him,  Con- 
stance merely  bowed,  and  walked  on. 
"  I  don't  see  why  men  have  to  torment 


47 

me  so,"  she  thought,  as  she  hurried 
along.  "  His  face  was  really  interesting, 
and  if  he  only  would  n't  begin  like  — 
He  never  would  have  behaved  so  if  —  if 
I  weren't  — '  Miss  Durant  checked 
even  her  thoughts  from  the  word  "  beau- 
tiful," and  allowed  the  words  "well 
dressed"  to  explain  her  magnetism  to 
the  other  sex.  Then,  as  if  to  salve  her 
conscience  of  her  own  hypocrisy,  she 
added,  "It  really  is  an  advantage  to  a 
girl,  if  she  does  n't  want  to  be  bothered 
by  men,  to  be  born  plain." 

The  truth  of  her  thought  was  brought 
home  to  her  with  unexpected  sudden- 
ness, for  as  she  passed  a  strip  of  side- 
walk made  light  by  the  glare  from  a 
saloon  brilliant  with  gas,  a  man  just 
coming  out  of  its  door  stared  boldly, 
and  then  joined  her. 

"  Ahem  1 "  he  said. 

The  girl  quickened  her  pace,  but  the 
intruder  only  lengthened  his. 


f 

"Cold  night,  isn't  it,  darling?"  he 
remarked,  and  tried  to  take  her  arm. 

Constance  shrank  away  from  the 
familiarity  with  a  loathing  and  fear 
which,  as  her  persecutor  followed,  drove 
her  to  the  curb. 

"  How  dare  you  ?  "  she  burst  out,  find- 
ing he  was  not  to  be  avoided. 

"  Now  don't  be  silly,  and  - 

There  the  sentence  ended,  for  the  man 
was  jerked  backwards  by  the  collar,  and 
then  shot  forward,  with  a  shove,  full 
length  into  the  gutter. 

"  I  feared  you  would  need  assistance, 
Miss  Durant,  and  so  took  the  liberty  of 
following  you  at  a  distance,"  explained 
Dr.  Armstrong,  as  the  cur  picked  him- 
self up  and  slunk  away. 

"  You  are  very  —  Thank  you  deeply 
for  your  kindness,  Dr.  Armstrong," 
gasped  the  girl,  her  voice  trembling. 
"  I  ought  to  have  been  guided  by  your 
advice  and  taken  the  car,  but  the  truth 


is,  I  suddenly  remembered  —  that  is,  I 
happened  to  be  without  any  money,  and 
was  ashamed  to  ask  you  for  a  loan. 
Now,  if  you'll  lend  me  five  cents,  I 
shall  be  most  grateful." 

"  It  is  said  to  be  a  feminine  trait  never 
to  think  of  contingencies,"  remarked  the 
doctor,  "  and  I  think,  Miss  Durant,  that 
your  suggested  five  cents  has  a  tendency 
in  that  direction.  I  will  walk  with  you 
to  Lexington  Avenue,  which  is  now  your 
nearest  line,  and  if  you  still  persist  then 
in  refusing  my  escort,  I  shall  insist  that 
you  become  my  debtor  for  at  least  a 
dollar." 

"  I  really  need  not  take  you  any  further 
than  the  car,  thank  you,  Dr.  Armstrong, 
for  I  can  get  a  cab  at  Twenty-third 
Street." 

It  was  a  short  walk  to  the  car  line,  — 
too  short,  indeed,  for  Miss  Durant  to 
express  her  sense  of  obligation  as  she 
wished,  —  and  she  tried,  even  as  she  was 


v> 


mounting  the  steps,  to  say  a  last  word, 
but  the  car  swept  her  away  with  the 
sentence  half  spoken ;  and  with  a  want 
of  dignity  that  was  not  customary  in 
her,  she  staggered  to  a  seat.  Then  as  she 
tendered  a  dollar  bill  to  the  conductor, 
she  remarked  to  herself,  — 

"  Now,  that 's  a  man  I  'd  like  for  a 
friend,  if  only  he  would  n't  be  foolish." 

At  eleven  on  the  following  morning, 
Miss  Durant's  carriage  once  more  stopped 
at  the  hospital  door;  and,  bearing  a  bur- 
den of  flowers,  and  followed  by  the 
footman  carrying  a  large  basket,  Con- 
stance entered  the  ward,  and  made  her 
way  to  the  waifs  bedside. 

"  Good-morning,"  she  said  to  Dr. 
Armstrong,  who  stood  beside  the  next 
patient.  "  How  is  our  invalid  doing? " 

"  Good-morning,"  responded  the  doc- 
tor, taking  the  hand  she  held  out.  "I 
think  —  " 


5' 

"  We 's  takin'  life  dead  easy,  dat  's  wot 
wese  is,"  came  the  prompt  interruption 
from  the  pillow,  in  a  voice  at  once  youth- 
ful yet  worn.  "  Say,  dis  oin't  no  lead- 
pipe  cinch,  oh,  no !  " 

It  was  a  very  different  face  the  girl 
found,  for  soap  and  water  had  worked 
wonders  with  it,  and  the  scissors  and 
brush  had  reduced  the  tangled  shag  of 
hair  to  order.  Yet  the  ferret  eyes  and 
the  alert,  over-sharp  expression  were 
unchanged. 

"I've  brought  you  some  flowers  and 
goodies,"  said  Miss  Durant.  "  I  don't 
know  how  much  of  it  will  be  good  for 
him,"  she  went  on  to  the  doctor,  apolo- 
getically, "but  I  hope  some  will  do." 
Putting  the  flowers  on  the  bed,  from 
the  basket  she  produced  in  succession 
two  bottles  of  port,  a  mould  of  wine 
jelly,  a  jar  of  orange  marmalade,  a  box 
of  wafers,  and  a  dish  of  grapes,  apples, 
and  bananas. 


"Gee!  Won't  Ise  have  a  hell  of  a 
gorge!"  joyfully  burst  out  the  invalid. 

"  We  '11  see  about  that,"  remarked  Dr. 
Armstrong,  smiling.  "  He  can  have  all 
the  other  things  you  've  brought,  in  rea- 
son, Miss  Durant,  except  the  wine.  That 
must  wait  till  we  see  how  much  fever  he 
develops  to-day." 

"  He  is  doing  well  ?  " 

"  So  far,  yes." 

"  That  is  a  great  relief  to  me.  And, 
Dr.  Armstrong,  in  returning  your  loan 
to  me,  will  you  let  me  say  once  again 
how  grateful  I  am  to  you  for  all  your 
kindness,  for  which  I  thanked  you  so 
inadequately  last  night  ?  I  deserved  all 
that  came  to  me,  and  can  only  wonder 
how  you  ever  resisted  saying,  'I  told 
you  so." 

"  I  have  been  too  often  wrong  in  my 
own  diagnosing  to  find  any  satisfaction 
or  triumph  in  the  mistakes  of  others," 
said  the  doctor,  as  he  took  the  bill  the 


V     It 


girl  held  out  to  him,  and,  let  it  be  con- 
fessed, the  fingers  that  held  it,  "not 
can  I  regret  anything  which  gave  me  an 
opportunity  to  serve  you." 

The  speaker  put  an  emphasis  on  the 
last  word,  and  eyed  Miss  Durant  in  a 
way  that  led  her  to  hastily  withdraw  her 
fingers,  and  turn  away  from  his  uncon- 
cealed admiration.  It  was  to  find  the 
keen  eyes  of  the  urchin  observing  them 
with  the  closest  attention ;  and  as  she 
realised  it,  she  coloured,  half  in  embar- 
rassment and  half  in  irritation. 

"  How  is  your  leg?  "  she  asked,  in  an 
attempt  to  divert  the  boy's  attention  and 
to  conceal  her  own  feeling. 

"  Say.  Did  youse  know  dey  done  it 
up  in  plaster,  so  dat  it 's  stiff  as  a  bat  ?  " 
responded  the  youngster,  eagerly.  "  Wish 
de  udder  kids  could  see  it,  for  dey '11 
never  believe  it  w'en  Ise  tells  'em.  I  '11 
show  it  to  youse  if  youse  want?"  he 
offered,  in  his  joy  over  the  novelty. 


54 

"I  saw  it  put  on,"  said  Constance. 
"  Don't  you  remember?  " 

"Why,  cert!  Ise  remembers  now 
dat — "  A  sudden  change  came  over 
the  boy's  face.  "  Wheer  's  dem  does 
youse  promised  me  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"Oh,  I  entirety  forgot  — " 

"  Ah,  forgit  youse  mudder !  Youse  a 
peach,  oin't  youse  ?  "  contemptuously 
broke  in  the  child. 

Miss  Durant  and  Dr.  Armstrong  both 
burst  out  laughing. 

"  Youse  fink  youse  a  smarty,  but  Ise 
know'd  de  hull  time  it  wuz  only  a  big 
bluff  dat  youse  wuz  tryin'  to  play  on  me, 
an*  it  did  n't  go  wid  me,  nah !  "  went  on 
the  youngster,  in  an  aggrieved  tone. 

"  Is  n't  he  perfectly  incorrigible  ?  " 
sighed  Constance. 

"Ise  oin't,"  denied  the  boy,  indig- 
nantly. "  Deyse  only  had  me  up  onct." 

With  the  question  the  girl  had  turned 
to  Dr.  Armstrong ;  then,  finding  his  eyes 


t 


55 

still  intently  studying  her,  she  once  more 
gave  her  attention  to  the  waif. 

"  Really,  I  did  forget  them/'  she  as- 
serted. "  You  shall  have  a  new  suit 
long  before  you  need  it." 

"  Cert'in  dat  oin't  no  fake  extry  youse 
Boutin'?" 

"  Truly.    How  old  are  you  ?  " 

"Wotcher  want  to  know  for?"  sus1 
piciously  asked  the  boy. 

"  So  I  can  buy  a  suit  for  that  age." 

"  Dat  goes.    Ise  ate." 

c<  And  what 's  your  name  ?  " 

"Swot." 

"  What  ?  "  exclaimed  the  girl. 

"  Nah.    Swot,"  he  corrected. 

"How  do  you  spell  it?" 

"  Dun'no'.  Dat 's  wot  de  newsies  calls 
me,  'cause  of  wot  Ise  says  to  de  preacher 
man." 

"And  what  was  that?" 

"  It  wuz  one  of  dem  religious  mugs 
wot  comes  Sunday  to  de  Mulberry  Park, 


see,  an'  dat  day  he  wuz  gassin'  to  us 
kids  'bout  lettin'  a  guy  as  had  hit  youse 
onct  doin'  it  ag'in;  an'  w'en  he  'd  pumped 
hisself  empty,  he  says  to  me,  says  he, 
'If  a  bad  boy  fetched  youse  a  lick  on 
youse  cheek,  wot  would  youse  do  to 
'im?'  An'  Ise  says,  'I'd  swot  'im  in 
de  gob,  or  punch  'im  in  de  slats/  says 
I;  an'  so  de  swipes  calls  me  by  dat 
noime.  Honest,  now,  oin't  dat  kinder 
talk  jus'  sickenin'  ?  " 

"  But  you  must  have  another  name," 
suggested  Miss  Durant,  declining  to 
commit  herself  on  that  question. 

"  Sure." 

"And  what  is  that?" 

"McGarrigle." 

"  And  have  you  no  father  or  mother  ?  " 

"Nah." 

"  Or  brothers  or  sisters  ?  " 

"  Nah.    Ise  oin't  got  nuttin'." 

"  Where  do  you  live  ?  " 

"Ah,  rubber!"  disgustedly  remarked 


57 

Swot.  "  Say,  dis  oin't  no  police  court, 
see?" 

During  all  these  questions,  and  to  a 
certain  extent  their  cause,  Constance 
had  been  quite  conscious  that  the  doctor 
was  still  watching  her,  and  now  she  once 
more  turned  to  him,  to  say,  with  an 
inflection  of  disapproval, — 

"  When  I  spoke  to  you  just  now,  Dr. 
Armstrong,  1  did  not  mean  to  interrupt 
you  in  your  duties,  and  you  must  not 
let  me  detain  you  from  them." 

"  I  had  made  my  morning  rounds  long 
before  you  came,  Miss  Durant,"  equably 
answered  the  doctor,  "and  had  merely 
come  back  for  a  moment  to  take  a  look 
at  one  of  the  patients." 

"I  feared  you  were  neglecting  —  were 
allowing  my  arrival  to  interfere  with 
more  important  matters,"  replied  Miss 
Durant,  frigidly.  "  I  never  knew  a  denser 
man,"  she  added  to  herself,  again  seeking 
to  ignore  his  presence  by  giving  her 


55 

attention  to  Swot.  "  I  should  have 
brought  a  book  with  me  to-day,  to 
read  aloud  to  you,  but  I  had  no  idea 
what  kind  of  a  story  would  interest  you. 
If  you  know  of  one,  1  '11  get  it  and  come 
to-morrow." 

"  Gee,  Ise  in  it  dis  time  wid  bote  feet, 
oin't  Ise  ?  Say,  will  youse  git  one  of  de 
Old  Sleuts?  Deys  de  peachiest  books 
dat  wuz  ever  wroten." 

"  I  will,  if  my  bookshop  has  one,  or 
can  get  it  for  me  in  time." 

"  There  is  little  chance  of  your  getting 
it  there,  Miss  -  Durant,"  interposed  Dr. 
Armstrong ;  "  but  there  is  a  place  not  far 
from  here  where  stories  of  that  character 
are  kept;  and  if  it  will  save  you  any 
trouble,  I  '11  gladly  get  one  of  them  for 
you." 

"  I  have  already  overtaxed  your  kind- 
ness," replied  Constance,  "and  so  will 
not  trouble  you  in  this." 

"  It  would  be  no  trouble.' 


'Thank  you, 
search  myself." 

"  Say,"  broke  in  the  urchin.  "  Youse 
ought  to  let  de  doc  do  it.  Don't  youse 
see  dat  he  wants  to,  'cause  he's  stuck 
on  youse?" 

"  Then  I  '11  come  to-morrow  and  read 
to  you,  Swot,"  hastily  remarked  Miss 
Durant,  pulling  her  veil  over  her  face. 
"  Good-bye."  Without  heeding  the  boy's 
"  Dat 's  fine,"  or  giving  Dr.  Armstrong 
a  word  of  farewell,  she  went  hurrying 
along  the  ward,  and  then  downstairs,  to 
her  carriage.  Yet  once  within  its  shelter, 
the  girl  leaned  back  and  laughed  merrily. 
"  It 's  perfectly  absurd  for  him  to  behave 
so  before  all  the  nurses  and  patients,  and 
he  ought  to  know  better.  It  is  to  be 
hoped  that  was  a  sufficiently  broad  hint 
for  his  comprehension,  and  that  hence- 
forth he  won't  do  it." 

Yet  it  must  be  confessed  that  the  boy's 
remark  frequently  recurred  that  day  to 


6o 

Miss  Durant;  and  if  it  had  no  other 
result,  it  caused  her  to  devote  an  amount 
of  thought  to  Dr.  Armstrong  quite  out 
of  proportion  to  the  length  of  the 
acquaintance. 

Whatever  the  inward  effect,  Miss 
Durant  could  discover  no  outward 
evidence  that  Swot's  bombshell  had 
moved  Dr.  Armstrong  a  particle  more 
than  her  less  pointed  attempts  to  bring 
to  him  a  realisation  that  he  was  behav- 
ing in  a  manner  displeasing  to  her. 
When  she  entered  the  ward  the  next 
morning,  the  doctor  was  again  there, 
and  this  time  at  the  waif's  bedside, 
making  avoidance  of  him  out  of  the 
question.  So  with  a  "  this-is-my-busy- 
day  "  manner,  she  gave  him  the  briefest 
of  greetings,  and  then  turned  to  the 
boy. 

"  I  Ve  brought  you  some  more  good- 
ies, Swot,  and  I  found  the  story,"  she 
announced  triumphantly. 


6, 

"  Say,  youse  a  winner,  dat  's  wot  youse 
is ;  oin't  she,  doc  ?  Wot 's  de  noime  ?  " 

Constance  held  up  to  him  the  red  and 
yellow  covered  tale.  "  The  Cracksman  s 
Spot],  or  Young  Sleuth's  Double  Arti- 
fice" she  read  out  proudly. 

"  Ah,  g'way !  Dat  oin't  no  good. 
Say,  dey  did  n't  do  a  t'ing  to  youse,  did 
dey?" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Dey  sold  youse  fresh,  dat 's  wot  dey 
did.  De  Young  Sleut  books  oin't  no 
good.  Dey 's  nuttin'  but  a  fake  extry." 

"Oh,  dear!"  exclaimed  Constance, 
crestfallenly.  "  It  took  me  the  whole 
afternoon  to  find  it,  but  I  did  think  it 
was  what  you  wanted." 

"  I  was  sceptical  of  your  being  able  to 
get  even  an  approach  to  newsboy  litera- 
ture, Miss  Durant,"  said  Dr.  Armstrong, 
"  and  so  squandered  the  large  sum  of  a 
dime  myself.  I  think  this  is  the  genuine 
article,  is  n't  it  ? "  he  asked,  as  he  handed 


"  Dat  's  de  real  t'ing,"  jubilantly 
acceded  Swot.  "Say,  oin't  de  women 
doisies  for  havin'  bases  stole  off  'em? 
Did  n't  Ise  give  youse  de  warm  tip  to  let 
de  doc  git  it  ?  " 

"  You  should  thank  him  for  saving  you 
from  my  stupid  blunder,"  answered  the 
girl,  artfully  avoiding  all  possibility  of 
personal  obligation.  "Would  you  like 
me  to  read  it  to  you  now?" 

"  Would  n't  Ise,  just  1" 

Still  ignoring  Dr.  Armstrong,  Con- 
stance took  the  seat  at  the  bedside,  and 
opening  the  book,  launched  into  the 
wildest  sea  of  blood-letting  and  crime. 
Yet  thrillingly  as  it  began,  she  was  not 
oblivious  to  the  fact  that  for  some  min- 
utes the  doctor  stood  watching  her,  and 
she  was  quite  conscious  of  when  he 
finally  moved  away,  noiselessly  as  he 
went.  Once  he  was  gone,  she  was 


"  Constance  took  the  seat  at  the  bedside."       Page  62. 

—  Wanted — A  Matchmaker. 


more  at  her  ease;  yet  clearly  her  con- 
science troubled  her  a  little,  for  in  her 
carriage  she  again  gave  expression  to 
some  thought  by  remarking  aloud,  "  It 
was  rude,  of  course,  but  if  he  will  behave 
so,  it  really  is  n't  my  fault." 

The  gory  tale,  in  true  serial  style,  was 
"continued"  the  next  and  succeeding 
mornings,  to  the  enthralment  of  the  lis- 
tener and  the  amusement  of  the  reader, 
the  latter  finding  in  her  occupation  as 
well  a  convenient  reason  for  avoiding  or 
putting  a  limit  to  the  doctor's  undis- 
guised endeavours  to  share,  if  not,  indeed, 
to  monopolise,  her  attention.  Even  seri- 
als, however,  have  an  end,  and  on  the 
morning  of  the  sixth  reading  the  impos- 
sibly shrewd  detective  successfully  put 
out  of  existence,  or  safely  incarcerated 
each  one  of  the  numerous  scoundrels 
who  had  hitherto  triumphed  over  the 
law,  and  Constance  closed  the  book. 

"  Hully  gee !  "  sighed  Swot,  content- 


edly.  "Say,  dat  Old  Sleut,  he's  up  to 
de  limit,  oin't  he  ?  It  don't  matter  wot 
dey  does,  he  works  it  so 's  de  hull  push 
comes  his  way,  don't  he  ?  " 

"He  certainly  was  very  far-seeing," 
Constance  conceded ;  "  but  what  a  pity 
it  is  that  he  —  that  he  was  n't  in  some 
finer  calling." 

"Finer  wot?" 

"  How  much  nobler  it  would  have 
been  if,  instead  of  taking  life,  he  had 
been  saving  it  -—  like  Dr.  Armstrong,  for 
instance,"  she  added,  to  bring  her  idea 
within  the  comprehension  of  the  boy. 

"  Ah,  dat 's  de  talk  for  religious  mugs 
an'  goils,"  contemptuously  exclaimed  the 
waif,  "  but  it  guv's  me  de  sore  ear.  It 
don't  go  wid  me,  not  one  little  bit." 

"Aren't  you  grateful  to  Dr.  Arm- 
strong for  all  he's  done  for  you?" 

"Bet  youse  life,"  assented  Swot; 
"  but  Ise  oin't  goin'  to  be  no  doctor, 
nah  1  Ise  goin'  to  git  on  de  force,  dat 's 


65 

de  racket  Ise  enter.  Say,  will  youse  read 
me  anudder  of  dem  stories  ?  " 

"  Gladly,  if  I  can  find  the  right  kind 
this  time." 

The  boy  raised  his  head  to  look  about 
the  ward.  "  Hey,  doc,"  called  his  cracked 
treble. 

"  Hush,  don't ! "  protested  the  girl. 

"W'ynot?" 

Before  she  could  frame  a  reason,  the 
doctor  was  at  the  bedside.  "What  is 
it  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Say,  wese  got  tru  wid  dis  story,  an' 
Miss  Constance  says  she'll  read  me 
anudder,  but  dey  '11  set  de  goime  up  on 
her,  sure,  she  bein'  a  goil ;  so  will  youse 


Constance.    "  Say, 
for  it?"  he  requested 

"  And  why  should 
Armstrong. 


66 

"  'Cause  she 's  got  de  dough,  an  Ise 
heard  de  nurse  loidies  talkin'  'bout  youse, 
an'  dey  said  dat  youse  wuz  poor." 

It  was  the  doctor's  turn  to  colour,  and 
flush  he  did. 

"  Swot  and  I  will  both  be  very  grateful, 
Dr.  Armstrong,  if  you  will  get  us  another 
of  the  Old  Sleuth  books,"  spoke  up  Miss 
Durant,  hastily. 

"  Won't  youse  guv  'im  de  price  ? " 
reiterated  the  urchin. 

"  Then  we  '11  expect  it  to-morrow 
morning,"  went  on  the  girl ;  and  for  the 
first  time  in  days  she  held  out  her  hand 
to  Dr.  Armstrong,  "  And  thank  you  in 
advance  for  your  kindness.  Good- 
morning." 

"Rats!"  she  heard,  as  she  walked 
away.  "  I  did  n't  tink  she  'd  do  de  grand 
sneak  like  dat,  doc,  jus'  'cause  I  tried  to 
touch  her  for  de  cash." 

Constance  slowed  one  step,  then  re- 
sumed her  former  pace.  "  He  surely 


Of  course  he  '11  understand  why  I  hurried 
away,"  she  murmured. 

Blind  as  he  might  be,  Dr.  Armstrong 
was  not  blind  to  the  geniality  of  Miss 
Durant's  greeting  the  next  morning,  or 
the  warmth  of  her  thanks  for  the  cheap- 
looking  dime  novel.  She  chatted  pleas- 
antly with  him  some  moments  before 
beginning  on  the  new  tale;  and  even 
when  she  at  last  opened  the  book,  there 
was  a  subtle  difference  in  the  way  she 
did  it  that  made  it  include  instead  of 
exclude  him  from  a  share  in  the  read- 
ing. And  this  was  equally  true  of  the 
succeeding  days. 

The  new  doings  of  Old  Sleuth  did 
not  achieve  the  success  that  the  previous 
ones  had.  The  invalid  suddenly  devel- 
oped both  restlessness  and  inattention, 
with  such  a  tendency  to  frequent  inter- 
ruptions as  to  make  reading  well-nigh 
impossible. 

"  Really,  Swot,"  Constance  was  driven 


t>S 

to  threaten  one  morning,  when  he  had 
broken  in  on  the  narrative  for  the  seventh 
time  with  questions  which  proved  that 
he  was  giving  no  heed  to  the  book, 
"  unless  you  lie  quieter,  and  don't  inter- 
rupt so  often,  I  shall  not  go  on  reading." 

"  Dat  goes,"  acceded  the  little  fellow ; 
yet  before  she  had  so  much  as  finished 
a  page  he  asked,  "  Say,  did  youse  ever 
play  craps?" 

"  No,"  she  answered,  with  a  touch  of 
severity. 

"It's  a  jim  dandy  goime,  Ise  tells 
youse.  Like  me  to  learn  youse?" 

"  No,"  replied  the  girl,  as  she  closed 
the  book. 

"  Goils  never  oin't  no  good,"  remarked 
Swot,  discontentedly. 

Really  irritated,  Miss  Durant  rose  and 
adjusted  her  boa.  "Swot,"  she  said, 
"  you  are  the  most  ungrateful  boy  I  ever 
knew,  and  I  'm  not  merely  not  going  to 
read  any  more  to-day,  but  I  have  a  good 


f>9 

mind  not  to  come  to-morrow,  just  to 
punish  you." 

"  Ah,  chase  youseself  1 "  was  the  re- 
sponse. "  Youse  can't  pass  dat  gold 
brick  on  me,  well,  I  guess ! " 

"  What  are  you  talking  about  ? "  in- 
dignantly asked  Constance. 

"link  Ise  oin't  onter  youse  curves? 
Tink  Ise  don't  hear  wot  de  nurse  loidies 
says  ?  Gee !  Ise  know  w'y  youse  so  fond 
of  comin'  here." 

"  Why  do  I  come  here  ?  "  asked  Con- 
stance, in  a  voice  full  of  warning. 

The  tone  was  wasted  on  the  boy. 

"  'Cause  youse  dead  gone  on  de  doc." 

"I  am  sorry  you  don't  know  better 
than  to  talk  like  that,  Swot,"  said  the 
girl,  quietly,  "  because  I  wanted  to  be 
good  to  you,  and  now  you  have  put  an 
end  to  my  being  able  to  be.  You  will 
have  to  get  some  one  else  to  read  to  you 
after  this.  Good-bye."  She  passed 
her  hand  kindly  over  his  forehead,  and 


70 

turned  to  find  that  Dr.  Armstrong  was 
standing  close  behind  her,  and  must 
have  overheard  more  or  less  of  what  had 
been  said.  Without  a  word,  and  looking 
straight  before  her,  Constance  walked 
away. 

Once  out  of  the  hospital,  her  con- 
science was  not  altogether  easy;  and 
though  she  kept  away  the  next  day,  she 
sent  her  footman  with  the  usual  gift  of 
fruits  and  other  edibles;  and  this  she 
did  again  on  the  morning  following. 

"  Of  course  he  did  n't  mean  to  be  so 
atrociously  impertinent,"  she  sighed,  in 
truth  missing  what  had  come  to  be  such 
an  amusing  and  novel  way  of  using  up 
some  of  each  twenty-four  hours.  "  But 
I  can't,  in  self-respect,  go  to  him  any 
more." 

These  explanations  were  confided  to 
her  double  in  the  mirror,  as  she  eyed  the 
effect  of  a  new  gown,  donned  for  a  din- 
ner; and  while  she  still  studied  the 


7' 

eminently  satisfactory  total,  she  was  in- 
terrupted by  a  knock  at  the  door,  and 
her  maid  brought  her  a  card  the  foot- 
man handed  in. 

Constance  took  it,  looked  astonished, 
then  frowned  slightly,  and  finally  glanced 
again  in  the  mirror.  Without  a  word, 
she  took  her  gloves  and  fan  from  the 
maid,  and  descended  to  the  drawing- 
room. 

"  Good-evening,  Dr.  Armstrong,"  she 
said,  coolly. 

"I  have  come  here — I  have  intruded 
on  you,  Miss  Durant,"  awkwardly  and 
hurriedly  began  the  doctor,  "  because 
nothing  else  would  satisfy  Swot  McGar- 
rigle.  I  trust  you  will  understand  that 
I  —  He  —  he  is  to  undergo  an  opera- 
tion, and  —  well,  I  told  him  it  was  im- 
possible, but  he  still  begged  me  so  to  ask 
you,  that  I  hadn't  the  heart  to  refuse 
him." 

"  An  operation !  "  cried  Constance. 


72 

"  Don't  be  alarmed.  It 's  really  noth- 
ing serious.  He-  Perhaps  you  may 
have  noticed  how  restless  and  miserable 
he  has  been  lately.  It  is  due,  we  have 
decided,  to  one  of  the  nerves  of  the  leg 
having  been  lacerated,  and  so  I  am  going 
to  remove  it,  to  end  the  suffering,  which 
is  now  pretty  keen." 

"  Oh,  I  'm  so  sorry,"  exclaimed  the 
girl,  regretfully.  "  I  did  n't  dream  of  it, 
and  so  was  hard  on  him,  and  said  I 
wouldn't  come  any  more." 

"  He  has  missed  your  visits  very  much, 
Miss  Durant,  and  we  found  it  very  hard 
to  comfort  him  each  morning,  when  only 
your  servant  came." 

"  Has  he  really  ?  I  thought  they  were 
nothing  to  him." 

"If  you  knew  that  class  better,  you 
would  appreciate  that  they  are  really 
grateful  and  warm-hearted,  but  they  fear 
to  show  their  feelings,  and,  besides,  could 
not  express  them,  even  if  they  had  the 


"  :I  have  come  here — I  have  intruded  on  you,  Miss  Durant,'  hurriedly 
began  the  doctor/'      Page  72. 

—  Wanted — A  Matchmaker. 


questioned 


Tl 

words,  which  they  don't.  But  if  you 
could  hear  the  little  chap  sing  your 
praises  to  the  nurses  and  to  me,  you 
would  not  think  him  heartless.  'My 
loidy'  is  his  favourite  description  of 
you." 

"  He  wants  to  see  me  ? 
the  girl,  eagerly. 

"  Yes.  Like  most  of  the  poorer  class, 
Miss  Durant,"  explained  the  doctor, 
"  he  has  a  great  dread  of  the  knife.  To 
make  him  less  frantic,  I  promised  that  I 
would  come  to  you  with  his  wish ;  and 
though  I  would  not  for  a  moment  have 
you  present  at  the  actual  operation,  if  you 
could  yield  so  far  as  to  come  to  him  for  a 
few  minutes,  and  assure  him  that  we  are 
going  to  do  it  for  his  own  good,  I  think 
it  will  make  him  more  submissive." 

"  When  do  you  want  me  ?  "  asked  Miss 
Durant. 

"  It  is  —  I  am  to  operate  as  soon  as 
I  can  get  back  to  the  hospital,  Miss  Du- 


74 

rant.  It  has  been  regrettably  postponed 
as  it  is." 

The  girl  stood  hesitating  for  a  mo- 
ment. "  But  what  am  I  to  do  about  my 
dinner  ?  " 

Dr.  Armstrong's  eyes  travelled  over 
her  from  head  to  foot,  taking  in  the 
charming  gown  of  satin  and  lace,  the 
strings  of  pearls  about  her  exquisite 
throat  and  wrists,  and  all  the  other  de- 
tails which  made  up  such  a  beautiful 
picture.  "  I  forgot,"  he  said,  quietly, 
"  that  society  duties  now  take  precedence 
over  all  others."  Then,  with  an  instant 
change  of  manner,  he  went  on :  "  You 
do  yourself  an  injustice,  I  think,  Miss 
Durant,  in  even  questioning  what  you 
are  going  to  do.  You  know  you  are 
coming  to  the  boy." 

For  the  briefest  instant  the  girl  re- 
turned his  intent  look,  trying  to  fathom 
what  enabled  him  to  speak  with  such 
absolute  surety ;  then  she  said,  "  Let  us 


75 

lose  no  time,"  as  she  turned  back  into 
the  hall  and  hurried  out  of  the  front 
door,  not  even  attending  to  the  doctor's 
protest  about  her  going  without  a  wrap ; 
and  she  only  said  to  him  at  the  carriage 
door,  "You  will  drive  with  me,  of 
course,  Dr.  Armstrong  ?  "  Then  to  the 
footman,  "  Tell  Murdock,  the  hospital, 
Maxwell,  but  you  are  to  go  at  once  to 
Mrs.  Purdy,  and  say  I  shall  be  prevented 
from  coming  to  her  to-night  by  a  call 
that  was  not  to  be  disregarded." 

"  It  was  madness  of  you,  Miss  Durant, 
to  come  out  without  a  cloak,  and  I  insist 
on  your  wearing  this,"  said  the  doctor, 
the  moment  the  carriage  had  started,  as 
he  removed  his  own  overcoat. 

"  Oh,  I  forgot  — but  I  must  n't  take  it 
from  you,  Dr.  Armstrong." 

"  Have  no  thought  of  me.  I  am  twice 
as  warmly  clad  as  you,  and  am  better 
protected  than  usual." 

Despite  her  protest  he  placed  it  about 


76 

Constance's  shoulders  and  buttoned  it 
up.  "  You  know,"  he  said,  "  the  society 
girl  with  her  bare  throat  and  arms  is 
at  once  the  marvel  and  the  despair  of  us 
doctors,  for  every  dinner  or  ball  ought 
to  have  its  death-list  from  pneumonia; 
but  it  never  —  " 

"  Will  it  be  a  very  painful  operation  ?  " 
asked  the  girl. 

"  Not  at  all ;  and  the  anaesthetic  pre- 
vents consciousness.  If  Swot  were  a 
little  older,  I  should  not  have  had  to 
trouble  you.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that 
boys,  as  a  rule,  face  operations  more 
bravely  than  any  other  class  of  patient 
we  have." 

"I  wonder  why  that  is?"  queried 
Constance. 

"  It  is  due  to  the  same  ambition  which 
makes  cigarette-smokers  of  them  —  a 
desire  to  be  thought  manly." 

Once  the  carriage  reached  the  hospital, 
Constance  followed  the  doctor  up  the 


, 

stairs  and  through  the  corridor.  "  Let 
me  relieve  you  of  the  coat,  Miss  Durant," 
he  advised,  and  took  it  from  her  and 
passed  it  over  to  one  of  the  orderlies. 
Then,  opening  a  door,  he  made  way  for 
her  to  enter. 

Constance  passed  into  a  medium-sized 
room,  which  a  first  glance  showed  her 
to  be  completely  lined  with  marble  ;  but 
there  her  investigations  ceased,  for  her 
eyes  rested  on  the  glass  table  upon  which 
lay  the  little  fellow,  while  beside  him 
stood  a  young  doctor  and  a  nurse.  At 
the  sound  of  her  footsteps  the  boy  turned 
his  head  till  he  caught  sight  of  her,  when, 
after  an  instant's  stare,  he  surprised  the 
girl  by  hiding  his  eyes  and  beginning  to 
cry. 

"Ise  knowed  all  along  youse  wuz 
goin'  to  kill  me,"  he  sobbed. 

"  Why,  Swot,"  cried  Constance,  going 
to  his  side.  "  Nobody  is  going  to  kill 
you." 


78 

The  hands  were  removed  from  the 
eyes,  and  still  full  of  tears,  they  blink- 
ingly  stared  a  moment  at  the  girl. 

"  Hully  gee  1  Is  dat  youse  ?  "  he  ejac- 
ulated. "  Ise  tought  youse  wuz  de  angel 
come  for  me." 

"  You  may  go  many  years  in  society, 
Miss  Durant,  without  winning  another 
compliment  so  genuine,"  remarked 
Dr.  Armstrong,  smiling.  "  Nor  is 
it  surprising  that  he  was  misled," 
he  added. 

Constance  smiled  in  return  as  she 
answered,  "  And  it  only  proves  how  the 
value  of  a  compliment  is  not  in  its  truth- 
fulness, but  in  its  being  truth  to  the  one 
who  speaks  it." 

"  Say,  youse  won't  let  dem  do  nuttin' 
bad  to  me,  will  youse?"  implored  the 
boy. 

"They  are  only  going  to  help  you, 
Swot,"  the  girl  assured  him,  as  she  took 
his  hand. 


"  Den  w'y  do  dey  want  to  put  me  to 
sleep  for  ? " 

"  To  spare  )'ou  suffering." 

"  Dis  oin't  no  knock-out  drops,  or  dat 
sorter  goime  ?  Honest  ?  " 

"  No.  I  won't  let  them  do  you  any 
harm." 

"Will  youse  watch  dem  all  de  time 
dey 's  doin'  tings  to  me  ?  " 

"Yes.  And  if  you'll  be  quiet  and 
take  it  nicely,  I'll  bring  you  a  present 
to-morrow." 

"  Dat 's  grand !  Wot  '11  youse  guv  me  ? 
Say,  don't  do  dat,"  he  protested,  as  the 
nurse  applied  the  sponge  and  cone  to 
his  face. 

"  Lie  still,  Swot,"  said  Constance, 
soothingly, "  and  tell  me  what  you  would 
best  like  me  to  give  you.  Shall  it  be  a 
box  of  building-blocks — or  some  soldiers 
—  or  a  fire-engine  —  or  —  " 

"Nah.  Ise  don't  want  nuttin'  but 
one  ting  —  an'  dat 's  —  wot  wuz  Ise 


8o 

tinkin'  —  Ise    forgits   wot    it    wuz  — 

lemme  see  — Wot 's  de  matter  ?  Wheer 
is  youse  all  ?  —  "  The  little  frame  re- 
laxed and  lay  quiet. 

"  That  is  all  you  can  do  for  us,  Miss 
Durant,"  said  Dr.  Armstrong. 

"  May  I  not  stay,  as  I  promised  him  I 
would  ?  "  begged  Constance. 

"  Can  you  bear  the  sight  of  blood  ?  " 

"I  don't  know  —  but  see — I'll  turn 
my  back."  Suiting  the  action  to  the 
word,  the  girl  faced  so  that,  still  holding 
Swot's  hand,  she  was  looking  away  from 
the  injured  leg. 

A  succession  of  low-spoken  orders  to 
his  assistants  was  the  doctor's  way  of 
telling  her  that  he  left  her  to  do  as  she 
chose.  She  stood  quietly  for  a  few  min- 
utes, but  presently  her  desire  to  know 
the  progress  of  the  operation,  and  her 
anxiety  over  the  outcome,  proved  too 
strong  for  her,  and  she  turned  her  head 
to  take  a  furtive  glance.  She  did  not 


Si 

look  away  again,  but  with  a  strange 
mixture  of  fascination  and  squeamish- 
ness,  she  watched  as  the  bleeding  was 
stanched  with  sponges,  each  artery  tied, 
and  each  muscle  drawn  aside,  until  finally 
the  nerve  was  reached  and  removed ;  and 
she  could  not  but  feel  both  wonder  and 
admiration  as  she  noted  how  Dr.  Arm- 
strong's hands,  at  other  times  seemingly 
so  much  in  his  way,  now  did  their  work 
so  skilfully  and  rapidly.  Not  till  the 
operation  was  over,  and  the  resulting 
wound  was  being  sprayed  with  antisep- 
tics, did  the  girl  realize  how  cold  and 
faint  she  felt,  or  how  she  was  trembling. 
Dropping  the  hand  of  the  boy,  she  caught 
at  the  operating-table,  and  then  the  room 
turned  black. 

"  It 's  really  nothing,"  she  asserted. 
"  1  only  felt  dizzy  for  an  instant.  Why  1 
Where  am  I?" 

"  You  fainted  away,  Miss  Durant,  and 
we  brought  you  here,"  explained  the 


82 

nurse,  once  again  applying  the  salts. 
The  woman  rose  and  went  to  the 
door.  "She  is  conscious  now,  Dr. 
Armstrong." 

As  the  doctor  entered  Constance  tried 
to  rise,  but  a  motion  of  his  hand  checked 
her.  "  Sit  still  a  little  yet,  Miss  Durant," 
he  ordered  peremptorily.  From  a  cup- 
board he  produced  a  plate  of  crackers 
and  a  glass  of  milk,  and  brought  them 
to  her. 

"I  really  don't  want  anything,"  de- 
clared the  girl. 

"  You  are  to  eat  something  at  once," 
insisted  Dr.  Armstrong,  in  a  very  domi- 
neering manner. 

He  held  the  glass  to  her  lips,  and 
Constance,  after  a  look  at  his  face, 
took  a  swallow  of  the  milk,  and  then  a 
piece  of  cracker  he  broke  off. 

"  How  silly  of  me  to  behave  so,"  she 
said,  as  she  munched. 

"  The  folly  was  mine  in  letting  you 


. 


stay  in  the  room  when  you  had  had  no 
dinner.  That  was  enough  to  knock 
up  any  one,"  answered  the  doctor. 
"  Here."  Once  again  the  glass  was  held 
to  her  lips,  and  once  again,  after  a  look 
at  his  face,  Constance  drank,  and  then 
accepted  a  second  bit  of  cracker  from 
his  fingers. 

"Do  you  keep  these  especially  for 
faint-minded  women  ?  "  she  asked,  trying 
to  make  a  joke  of  the  incident. 

"  This  is  my  particular  sanctum,  Miss 
Durant;  and  as  I  have  a  reprehensible 
habit  of  night-work,  I  keep  them  as  a 
kind  of  sleeping  potion." 

Constance  glanced  about  the  room 
with  more  interest,  and  as  she  noticed 
the  simplicity  and  the  bareness,  Swot's 
remark  concerning  the  doctor's  poverty 
came  back  to  her.  Only  many  books 
and  innumerable  glass  bottles,  a  micro- 
scope, and  other  still  more  mysterious 
instruments,  seemed  to  save  it  from  the 


94 

tenement-house,    if    not,    indeed,   the 
prison,  aspect. 

"Are  you  wondering  how  it  is  pos-. 
sible  for  any  one  to  live  in  such  a  way?" 
asked  the  doctor,  as  his  eyes  followed 
hers  about  the  room. 

"If  you  will  have  my  thought,"  an- 
swered Constance,  "  it  was  that  I  am  in 
the  cave  of  the  modern  hermit,  who,  in- 
stead of  seeking  solitude,  because  of  the 
sins  of  mankind,  seeks  it  that  he  may  do 
them  good." 

"  We  have  each  had  a  compliment  to- 
night," replied  Dr.  Armstrong,  his  face 
lighting  up. 

The  look  in  his  eyes  brought  some- 
thing into  the  girl's  thoughts,  and  with 
a  slight  effort  she  rose.  "  I  think  I  am 
well  enough  now  to  relieve  you  of  my 
intrusion,"  she  said. 

"  You  will  not  be  allowed  to  leave  the 
hermit's  cell  till  you  have  finished  the 
cracker  and  the  milk,"  affirmed  the  man. 


— 'S 

K 


"  I  only  regret  that  I  can't  keep  up  the 
character  by  offering  you  locusts  and 
wild  honey." 

"  At  least  don't  think  it  necessary  to 
stay  here  with  me,"  said  Miss  Durant, 
as  she  dutifully  began  to  eat  and  drink 
again.  "If  —  oh — the  operation —  How 
is  Swot?" 

"  Back  in  the  ward,  though  not  yet 
conscious." 

"  And  the  operation  ?  " 

"  Absolutely  successful." 

"  Despite  my  interruption  ?  " 

"  Another  marvel  to  us  M.D.'s  is  the 
way  so  sensitive  a  thing  as  a  woman  will 
hold  herself  in  hand  by  sheer  nerve  force 
when  it  is  necessary.  You  did  not  faint 
till  the  operation  was  completed." 

"  Now  may  I  go  ?  "  asked  the  girl,  with 
a  touch  of  archness,  as  she  held  up  the 
glass  and  the  plate,  both  empty. 

"  Yes,  if  you  will  let  me  share  your 
carriage.  Having  led  you  into  this  pre- 


dicament,  the  least  I  feel  I  can  do  is  to 
see  you  safely  out  of  it." 

"  Now  the  hermit  is  metamorphosing 
himself  into  a  knight,"  laughed  Con- 
stance, merrily,  "  with  a  distressed  dam- 
sel on  his  hands.  I  really  need  not  put 
you  to  the  trouble,  but  I  shall  be  glad  if 
you  will  take  me  home." 

Once  again  the  doctor  put  his  over- 
coat about  her,  and  they  descended  the 
stairs  and  entered  the  brougham. 

"  Tell  me  the  purpose  of  all  those  in- 
struments I  saw  in  your  room,"  she  asked 
as  they  started. 

"They  are  principally  for  the  in- 
vestigation of  bacteria.  Not  being 
ambitious  to  spend  my  life  doctoring 
whooping-cough  and  indigestion,  1 
am  striving  to  make  a  scientist  of 
myself." 

"  Then  that  is  why  you  prefer  hospital 
work  ?  " 

"No.    I  happen  to  have  been  born 


87 

with  my  own  living  to  make  in  the 
world,  and  when  I  had  worked  my  way 
through  the  medical  school,  I  only  too 
gladly  became  '  Interne '  here,  not  be- 
cause it  is  what  I  wish  to  do,  but  because 
I  need  the  salary." 

"  Yet  it  seems  such  a  noble  work." 

"  Don't  think  I  depreciate  it,  but  what 
I  am  doing  is  only  remedial.  What  I 
hope  to  do  is  to  prevent." 

"  How  is  it  possible  ?  " 

"  For  four  years  my  every  free  hour 
has  been  given  to  studying  what  is  now 
called  tuberculosis,  and  my  dream  is  to 
demonstrate  that  it  is  in  fact  the  parent 
disease  —  a  breaking  down  —  disintegra- 
tion—  of  the  bodily  substance  —  the  tis- 
sue, or  cell  —  and  to  give  to  the  world  a 
specific." 

"  How  splendid !  "  exclaimed  Con- 
stance. "  And  you  believe  you  can  ?  " 

"  Every  day  makes  me  more  sure  that 
both  demonstration  and  specific  are  pos- 


88 

sible  —  but  it  is  unlikely  that  I  shall  be 
the  one  to  do  it." 

"  I  do  not  see  why  ?  " 

"  Because  there  are  many  others  study- 
ing the  disease  who  are  free  from  the 
necessity  of  supporting  themselves,  and 
so  can  give  far  more  time  and  money  to 
the  investigation  than  is  possible  for  me. 
Even  the  scientist  must  be  rich  in  these 
days,  Miss  Durant,  if  he  is  to  win  the 
great  prizes. " 

"  Won't  you  tell  me  something  about 
yourself  ?  "  requested  Constance,  impul- 
sively. 

"  There  really  is  nothing  worth  while 
yet.  I  was  left  an  orphan  young,  in  the 
care  of  an  uncle  who  was  able  to  do  no 
better  for  me  than  to  get  me  a  place  in  a 
drug-store.  By  doing  the  night-work 
it  was  possible  to  take  the  course  at 
the  medical  college ;  and  as  I  made  a 
good  record,  this  position  was  offered 
to  me." 


It  —  you  could  make  it  interesting  if 


you  tried." 

"  I  'm  afraid  1  am  not  a  realist,  Miss 
Durant.  I  dream  of  a  future  that  shall 
be  famous  by  the  misery  and  death  I 
save  the  world  from,  but  my  past  is 
absolutely  eventless." 

As  he  ended,  the  carriage  drew  up  at 
the  house,  and  the  doctor  helped  her 
out. 

"  You  will  take  Dr.  Armstrong  back  to 
the  hospital,  Murdock,"  she  ordered. 

"  Thank  you,  but  I  really  prefer  a  walk 
before  going  to  my  social  intimates,  the 
bacilli,"  answered  the  doctor,  as  he  went 
up  the  steps  with  her.  Then,  after  he 
had  rung  the  bell,  he  held  out  his  hand 
and  said :  "  Miss  Durant,  I  need  scarcely 
say,  after  what  I  have  just  told  you,  that 
my  social  training  has  been  slight  —  so 
slight  that  I  was  quite  unaware  that  the 
old  adage,  'Even  a  cat  may  look  at  a 
king,'  was  no  longer  a  fact  until  I  over- 


go 


heard  what  was  said  the  other  day.    My 


last  wish  is  to  keep 


from 


to 


coming 

the  hospital,  and  in  expressing  my  regret 
at  having  been  the  cause  of  embarrass- 
ment to  you,  I  wish  to  add  a  pledge 
that  henceforth,  if  you  will  resume  your 
visits,  you  and  Swot  shall  be  free  from 
my  intrusion.  Good-night,"  he  ended, 
as  he  started  down  the  steps. 

"  But  I  never — really  I  have  no  right 
to  exclude  —  nor  do  I  wish  —  "  protested 
the  girl ;  and  then,  as  the  servant  opened 
the  front  door,  even  this  halting  attempt 
at  an  explanation  ceased.  She  echoed  a 
"  Good-night,"  adding,  "  and  thank  you 
for  all  your  kindness,"  and  very  much 
startled  and  disturbed  the  footman,  as 
she  passed  into  the  hallway,  by  audibly 
remarking,  "  Idiot ! " 

She  went  upstairs  slowly,  as  if  think- 
ing, and  once  in  her  room,  seated  herself 
at  her  desk  and  commenced  a  note.  Be- 
fore she  had  written  a  page  she  tore  the 


9' 

paper  in  two  and  began  anew.  Twice 
she  repeated  this  proceeding ;  then  rose 
in  evident  irritation,  and,  walking  to  her 
fire,  stood  looking  down  into  the  flame. 
"I'll  think  out  what  I  had  better  do 
when  I  'm  not  so  tired,"  she  finally  re- 
marked, as  she  rang  for  her  maid.  But 
once  in  bed,  her  thoughts,  or  the  pre- 
vious strain,  kept  her  long  hours  awake ; 
and  when  at  last  she  dropped  into  un- 
consciousness her  slumber  was  made 
miserable  by  dreams  mixing  in  utter  con- 
fusion operating-room  and  dinner,  guests 
and  microbes  —  dreams  in  which  she 
was  alternately  striving  to  explain  some- 
thing to  Dr.  Armstrong,  who  could  not 
be  brought  to  understand,  or  to  conceal 
something  he  was  determined  to  discover. 
Finally  she  found  herself  stretched  on 
the  dinner-table,  the  doctor,  knife  in 
hand,  standing  over  her,  with  the  avowed 
intention  of  opening  her  heart  to  learn 
some  secret,  and  it  was  her  helpless  pro- 


9* 

tests  and  struggles  which  brought  con- 
sciousness to  her  —  to  discover  that  she 
had  slept  far  into  the  morning. 

With  the  one  thought  of  a  visit  to  the 
hospital  during  the  permitted  hours,  she 
made  a  hasty  toilet,  followed  by  an 
equally  speedy  breakfast,  and  was  actu- 
ally on  her  way  downstairs  when  she 
recalled  her  promise  of  a  gift.  A  glance 
at  her  watch  told  her  that  there  was  not 
time  to  go  to  the  shops,  and  hurrying 
back  to  her  room,  she  glanced  around 
for  something  among  the  knick-knacks 
scattered  about.  Finding  nothing  that 
she  could  conceive  of  as  bringing  pleas- 
ure to  the  waif,  she  took  from  a  drawer 
of  her  desk  a  photograph  of  herself,  and 
descended  to  the  carriage. 

She  had  reason  to  be  thankful  for 
her  recollection,  as,  once  her  greetings, 
and  questions  to  the  nurse  about  the 
patient's  condition  were  made,  Swot 
demanded, 


;'Wheer's    dat 
promised  me?" 

"  I  did  not  have  time  this  morning  to 
get  something  especially  for  you,"  she 
explained,  handing  him  the  portrait,  "  so 
for  want  of  anything  better,  I  've  brought 
you  my  picture." 

The  urchin  took  the  gift  and  looked 
at  both  sides.  "Wotinell's  dat  good 
for?"  he  demanded  contemptuously. 

"I  thought  —  hoped  it  might  please 
you,  as  showing  you  that  I  had  for- 
given—  that  I  liked  you." 

"  Ah,  git  on  de  floor  an'  look  at  youse- 
self,"  disgustedly  remarked  Swot.    "  Dat 
talk  don't  cut  no  ice  wid  me.    W'y 
did  n't  youse  ask  wot  Ise  wants  ? " 
"  And  what  would  you  like?" 
"  Will  youse  guv  me  a  pistol  ?  " 
"  Why,  what  would  you  do  with  it  ?  " 
"  I'  d  trow  a  scare  into  de  big  newsies 
w'en  dey  starts  to  chase  me  off  de  good 
beats." 


"  Really,  Swot,  I  don't  think  I  ought 
to  give  you  anything  so  dangerous.  You 
are  very  young  to  —  " 

"  Ah  !  Youse  a  goil,  an'  deyse  born 
frightened.  Bet  youse  life,  if  youse  ask 
de  doc,  he  won't  tink  it  nuttin'  to  be 
scared  of." 

"  He  is  n't  here  this  morning,"  re- 
marked Constance,  for  some  reason 
looking  fixedly  at  the  glove  she  was 
removing  as  she  spoke. 

The  urchin  raised  his  head  and  peered 
about.  "  Dat  's  funny ! "  he  exclaimed. 
"It's  de  first  time  he  oin't  bin  here 
w'en  youse  wuz  at  de  bat." 

"  Has  he  seen  you  this  morning  ?  " 

"  Why,  cert  I "' 

The  girl  opened  the  dime  novel  and 
found  the  page  at  which  the  interruption 
had  occurred,  hesitated  an  instant,  and 
remarked,  "  The  next  time  he  comes  you 
might  say  that  I  would  like  to  see  him 
for  a  moment  —  to  ask  if  I  had  better  give 


95 

you  a  pistol."  This  said,  she  hastily  be- 
gan on  the  book.  Thrillingly  as  the  pur- 
suits and  pursuit  of  the  criminal  classes 
were  pictured,  however,  there  came  sev- 
eral breaks  in  the  reading;  and  had  any 
keenly  observant  person  been  watching 
Miss  Durant,  he  would  have  noticed  that 
these  pauses  invariably  happened  when- 
ever some  one  entered  the  ward. 

It  was  made  evident  to  her  that  she 
and  Swot  gave  value  to  entirely  different 
parts  of  her  message  to  the  doctor ;  for, 
no  sooner  did  she  reach  the  waif's  bed- 
side the  next  morning  than  the  invalid 
announced,  — 

"  Say,  Ise  done  my  best  to  jolly  de  doc, 
but  he  stuck  to  it  dat  youse  ought  n't 
to  guv  me  no  pistol." 

"Didn't  you  tell  him  what  I  asked 
you  to  say?"  demanded  Constance, 
anxiously. 

"  Soytenly.  Ise  says  to  'im  dat  youse 
wanted  to  know  wot  he  tought,  an'  he 


went  back  on  me.  Ise  did  n't  tink  he  'd 
trun  me  down  like  dat  I " 

"I  might  better  have  written  him," 
murmured  Miss  Durant,  thoughtfully. 
She  sat  for  some  time  silently  pondering, 
till  the  waif  asked,  — 

"Say,  youse  goin'  to  guv  me  dat 
present  just  de  same,  oin't  youse  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  '11  give  you  a  present,"  acceded 
the  girl,  opening  the  book.  "  I  think, 
Swot,"  she  continued,  "that  we'll  have 
to  trouble  Dr.  Armstrong  for  another 
Old  Sleuth,  as  we  shall  probably  finish 
this  to-day.  And  tell  him  this  time 
it  is  my  turn  to  pay  for  it."  From 
her  purse  she  produced  a  dime,  started 
to  give  it  to  the  boy,  hastily  drew  back 
her  hand,  and  replacing  the  coin,  sub- 
stituted for  it  a  dollar  bill.  Then  she 
began  reading  rapidly  —  so  rapidly  that 
the  end  of  the  story  was  attained  some 
twenty  minutes  before  the  visitors'  time 
had  expired. 


97 

"Say,"  was  her  greeting  on  the  fol- 
lowing day,  as  Swot  held  up  another 
Jurid-looking  tale  and  the  dollar  bill, 
"Ise  told  de  doc  youse  wuzn't  willin' 
dat  he,  bein'  poor,  should  bleed  de 
cash  dis  time,  an'  dat  youse  guv  me 
dis  to  —  " 

"  You  did  n't  put  it  that  way,  Swot  ?  " 
demanded  Miss  Durant. 

"  Wot  way?" 

"  That  I  said  he  was  poor.'* 

"  Soytenly." 

"  Oh,  Swot,  how  could  you  ?  " 

"  Wot 's  de  matter  ?  " 

"I  never  said  that!  Was  he  —  was 
he-  What  did  he  say?" 

"iNuttin'  much,  'cept  dat  I  wuz  to 
guv  youse  back  de  dough,  for  de  books 
wuz  on  'im." 

"I'm  afraid  you  have  pained  him, 
Swot,  and  you  certainly  have  pained  me. 
Did  he  seem  hurt  or  offended  ?  " 

"  Nop." 


"  I  wish  you  would  tell  him  I  shall  be 
greatly  obliged  if  he  will  come  to  the 
ward  to-morrow,  for  I  wish  to  see  him. 
Now  don't  alter  this  message,  please, 
Swot." 

That  her  Mercury  did  her  bidding 
more  effectively  was  proved  by  her 
finding  the  doctor  at  the  bedside  when 
she  arrived  the  next  day. 

"Swot  told  me  that  you  wished  to  see 
me,  Miss  Durant,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  and  I  'm  very  much  obliged  to 
you  for  waiting.  I —  How  soon  will 
it  be  possible  for  him  to  be  up  ?  " 

"  He  is  doing  so  famously  that  we  '11 
have  him  out  of  bed  by  Monday,  I 
hope." 

"  I  promised  him  a  present,  and  I  want 
to  have  a  Christmas  tree  for  him,  if  he 
can  come  to  it." 

"  Wot 's  dat?  "  came  the  quick  ques- 
tion from  the  bed. 

"  If  you  don't  know,  I  'm  going  to  let 


99 

it  be  a  surprise  to  you,  Swot.  Do  you 
think  he  will  be  well  enough  to  come  to 
my  house  ?  Of  course  I  '11  send  my 
carriage." 

"  If  he  continues  to  improve,  he  cer- 
tainly will  be." 

"  Say,  is  dat  de  ting  dey  has  for  de 
mugs  wot  goes  to  Sunday-school,  an' 
dat  dey  has  a  party  for?" 

"  Yes,  only  this  tree  will  be  only  for 
you,  Swot." 

"  Youse  oin't  goin'  to  have  no  udder 
swipes  but  me?" 

"  No." 

"  Den  who  '11  git  all  de  presents  wot 's 
on  de  tree?"  inquired  Swot,  sug- 
gestively. 

"  Guess ! "  laughed  Constance. 

"  Will  dey  all  be  for  me  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Hully  gee !  But  dat 's  grand  !  Ise 
in  it  up  to  de  limit,  doc,  oin't  Ise  ?  "ex- 
claimed the  waif,  turning  to  the  doctor. 


too 


Dr.  Armstrong  smiled  and  nodded  his 
head,  but  something  in  his  face  or  man- 
ner seemed  to  give  a  change  to  the  boy's 
thoughts,  for,  after  eyeing  him  intently, 
he  said  to  Constance,  — 

"Oin't  youse  goin'  to  invite  de 
doc?" 

Miss  Durant  coloured  as  she  said, 
with  a  touch  of  eagerness  yet  shyness, 
"Dr.  Armstrong,  I  intended  to  ask 
you,  and  it  will  give  me  a  great  deal 
of  pleasure  if  you  will  come  to  Swot's 
and  my  festival."  And  when  the 
doctor  seemed  to  hesitate,  she  added, 
"  Please  1 "  in  a  way  that  would  have 
very  much  surprised  any  man  of  her 
own  circle. 

"Thank  you,  Miss  Durant ;  I  '11  gladly 
come,  if  you  are  sure  I  sha'n't  be  an 
interloper." 

"  Not  at  all,"  responded  the  girl.  "  On 
the  contrary,  it  would  be  sadly  incom- 
plete without  you  —  " 


^ 


Both  Constance  and  the  doctor 
laughed  at  the  obvious  fear  in  the  boy's 
mind. 

"  No,  Swot,"  the  man  replied ;  "  and 
I've  had  my  Christmas  gift  from  Miss 
Durant  already." 

"Wotwuzdat?" 

"  Ask  her,"  replied  Dr.  Armstrong,  as 
he  walked  away. 

"  Wot  have  youse  guv  'im  ?" 

Constance  laughed,  and  blushed  still 
more  deeply,  as,  after  a  slight  pause,  she 
replied,  "It's  my  turn,  Swot,  to  say 
'  rubber '  ?  "  This  said,  she  stooped  im- 
pulsively and  kissed  the  boy's  forehead. 
"  You  are  a  dear,  Swot,"  she  asserted, 
warmly. 

With  the  mooting  of  the  Christmas 
tree,  the  interest  in  Old  Sleuth  markedly 
declined,  being  succeeded  by  innumer- 


702 


able  surmises  of  the  rapidly  convalescing 
boy  as  to  the  probable  nature  and  num- 
ber of  the  gifts  it  would  bear.  In  this 
he  was  not  discouraged  by  Miss  Durant, 
who,  once  the  readings  were  discon- 
tinued, brought  a  bit  of  fancy-work  for 
occupation. 

"Wot's  dat?"  he  inquired,  the  first 
time  she  produced  it. 

"  A  case  for  handkerchiefs." 

"Forme?" 

"Did  you  ever  have  a  handker- 
chief?" 

"  Nop.  An'  I  'd  radder  have  suttin' 
else." 

"  Can  you  keep  a  secret,  Swot  ?  " 

"  Bet  youse  life." 

"  This  is  for  Dr.  Armstrong." 

Swot  regarded  it  with  new  interest. 
"  Youse  goin'  to  s'prise  'im  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Den  youse  must  sneak  it  quick  w'en 
he  comes  in." 


*• 


•0} 

"  Have  n't  you  noticed  that  he  does  n't 
come  here  any  longer,  Swot?"  quietly 
responded  the  girl,  her  head  bowed  over 
the  work. 

"Oin'tdat  luck!" 

"Why?"  asked  Constance,  looking 
up  in  surprise. 

"  'Cause  youse  can  work  on  de  pres- 
ent," explained  Swot.  "Say,"  he  de- 
manded after  a  pause, "  if  dere  's  anyting 
on  de  tree  dat  Ise  don't  cares  for,  can 
Ise  give  it  to  de  doc  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  Or  better  still,  if  you  'II 
find  out  what  he  would  like,  1  '11  let  you 
make  him  a  present." 

"Youse  payin'  for  it?"  anxiously 
questioned  the  boy. 

"Of  course." 

"  Dat 's  Jim  Dandy ! " 

Miss  Durant  recurred  to  this  offer 
twice  in  the  succeeding  week,  but 
to  her  surprise,  found  Swot's  appar- 
ent enthusiasm  over  the  gift  had 


104 

entirely  cooled,  and  his  one  object 
was  a  seeming  desire  to  avoid  all 
discussion  of  it. 

"  Don't  you  want  to  give  him  some- 
thing, or  have  n't  you  found  out 
what  he  wants?"  she  was  driven 
to  ask. 

"Oh,  dat's  all  right.  Don't  youse 
tire  youself  'bout  dat,"  was  his  mysteri- 
ous reply.  Nor  could  she  extract  any- 
thing more  satisfactory. 

It  was  a  very  different  Swot  McGar- 
rigle  who  was  helped  into  Miss  Durant's 
carriage  by  the  doctor  on  Christmas  eve 
from  the  one  who  had  been  lifted  out  at 
the  hospital  some  six  weeks  before.  The 
wizened  face  had  filled  out  into  round- 
ness, and  the  long-promised  new  clothes, 
donned  for  the  first  time  in  honor  of  the 
event,  even  more  transformed  him ;  so 
changed  him,  in  fact,  that  Constance 
hesitated  for  an  instant  in  her  welcome, 
in  doubt  if  it  were  he. 


0. 


iM  ter     mity  Ij 


"  The  two  were  quickly  seated  on  the  floor."      Page  104. 

—  Wanted— A  Matchmaker. 


705 

•"  I  have  the  tree  in  my  own  room,  be- 
cause I  wanted  all  the  fun  to  ourselves," 
she  explained,  as  she  led  the  way  up- 
stairs, "  and  downstairs  we  should  almost 
certainly  be  interrupted  by  callers,  or 
something.  But  before  you  go,  Dr. 
Armstrong,  I  want  you  to  meet  my 
family,  and  of  course  they  all  want  to 
see  Swot." 

It  was  not  a  large  nor  particularly 
brilliant  tree,  but  to  Swot  it  was  every- 
thing that  was  beautiful.  At  first  he 
was  afraid  to  approach,  but  after  a  little 
Constance  persuaded  him  into  a  walk 
around  it,  and  finally  tempted  him,  by  an 
artful  mention  of  what  was  in  one  of  the 
larger  packages  at  the  base,  to  treat  it 
more  familiarly.  Once  the  ice  was 
broken,  the  two  were  quickly  seated  on 
the  floor,  Constance  cutting  strings,  and 
Swot  giving  shouts  of  delight  at  each 
new  treasure.  Presently,  in  especial  joy 
over  some  prize,  the  boy  turned  to  show 


io6 

it  to  the  doctor,  to  discover  that  he  was 
standing  well  back,  watching,  rather  than 
sharing,  in  the  pleasure  of  the  two ;  and, 
as  the  little  chap  discovered  the  aloof- 
ness, he  leaned  over  and  whispered 
something  to  the  girl. 

"  I  want  to,  but  can't  get  the  courage 
yet,"  whispered  back  Constance.  "I 
don't  know  what  is  the  matter  with  me, 
Swot,"  she  added,  blushing. 

"  Like  me  to  guv  it  to  'im  ?  " 

"  Oh,  will  you,  Swot  ? "  she  eagerly 
demanded.  "  It 's  the  parcel  in  tissue- 
paper  on  my  desk  over  there." 

The  waif  rose  to  his  feet  and  trotted 
to  the  place  indicated.  He  gave  a  quick 
glance  back  at  Miss  Durant,  and  seeing 
that  she  was  leaning  over  a  bundle,  he 
softly  unfolded  the  tissue-paper,  slipped 
something  from  his  newly  possessed 
breast  pocket  into  the  handkerchief-case, 
and  refolded  the  paper.  He  crossed  the 
room  to  where  the  doctor  was  standing, 


and  handed  him  the  parcel,  with  the 
remark,  "Dat's  for  youse,  from  Miss 
Constance  an'  me,  doc."  Then  scurry- 
ing back  to  the  side  of  the  girl,  he  con- 
fided to  her,  "  Ise  guv  de  doc  a  present, 
too." 

"What  was  it?"  asked  Constance, 
still  not  looking  up. 

"  Go  an'  ask  'im,"  chuckled  Swot. 

Turned  away  as  she  might  be,  she  was 
not  unconscious  of  the  doctor's  move- 
ments, and  she  was  somewhat  puzzled 
when,  instead  of  coming  to  her  with 
thanks,  he  crossed  the  room  to  a  bay- 
window,  where  he  was  hidden  by  the 
tree  from  both  of  them.  From  that 
point  he  still  further  astonished  her  by 
the  request, — 

"Can  you  —  will  you  please  come 
here  for  a  moment,  Miss  Durant?" 

Constance  rose  and  walked  to  where 
he  stood.  "  I  hope  you  like  my  gift  ?  " 
she  asked. 


io8 

"  You  could  have  given  me  nothing  I 
have  so  wanted — nothing  I  shall  treasure 
more,"  said  the  man,  speaking  low  and 
fervently.  "But  did  you  realise  what 
this  would  mean  to  me  ?  "  As  he  spoke, 
he  raised  his  hand,  and  Constance  saw, 
not  the  handkerchief-case,  but  a  photo- 
graph of  herself. 

"Oh!"  she  gasped.  "Where  — 1 
did  n't  —  that  was  a  picture  I  gave  to 
Swot.  The  case  is  my  gift." 

The  doctor's  hand  dropped,  and  all  the 
hope  and  fire  went  from  his  eyes.  "  I 
beg  your  pardon  for  being  so  foolish, 
Miss  Durant.  I  —  I  lost  my  senses  for 
a  moment  —  or  I  would  have  known 
that  you  never — that  the  other  was 
your  gift."  He  stooped  to  pick  it 
up  from  the  floor  where  he  had  dropped 
it.  "Thank  you  very  deeply  for  your 
kindness,  and — and  try  to  forget  my 
folly." 

"I  —  I  —  could  n't  understand  why 


tog 

Swot    suddenly  —  why    he  —  I    never' 
dreamed  of   his  doing   it,"  faltered 
the  girl. 

"  His  and  my  knowledge  of  social  con- 
ventions are  about  on  a  par,"  responded 
the  man,  with  a  set  look  to  his  mouth. 

Shall  I  give  it  back   to   him  or  to 
you?" 

Constance  drew  a  deep  breath.    "It 

rwas  n't  —  my  —  gift  —  but  —  but  —  I 
don't  mind  your  keeping  it  if  you 
wish." 

"  You  mean — ?  "  cried  Dr.  Armstrong, 
incredulously. 

"Oh,"  said  the  girl,  hurriedly,  "  isn't 
that  enough,  now  ?  Please,  oh,  please — 
wait  —  for  a  little." 

The  doctor  caught  her  hand  and 
kissed  it.  "Till  death,  if  you  ask  it!" 
he  said. 

Five  minutes  later  Swot  abstracted 
himself  sufficiently  from  his  gifts  to 


110 


peep  around  the  tree  and  ecstatically 
inquire, — 

"  Say,  oin't  dis  de  doisiest  Christmas 
dat  ever  wuz  ?  " 

"Yes,"  echoed  the  two  in  the  bay- 
window. 

"  Did  youse  like  me  present,  doc  ?  " 

"Yes,"  reiterated  the  doctor,  with 
something  in  his  voice  that  gave  the 
word  tenfold  meaning. 

"  Ise  tought  youse  'ud  freeze  to  it,  an* 
it  wuz  n't  no  sorter  good  to  me." 

Constance  laughed  happily.  "Still, 
I  'm  very  glad  I  gave  it  to  you,  Swot,"  she 
said,  with  a  glance  of  the  eyes,  half  shy 
and  half  arch,  at  the  man  beside  her. 

"Did  youse  like  Miss  Constance's 
present  too,  doc?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  doctor,  "  especially 
the  one  you  have  n't  seen,  Swot." 

"Wot  wuz  dat?" 

"  A  something  called  hope  —  which  is 
the  finest  thing  in  the  world." 


Durant. 
t?" 
whispered   Constance, 


••••ilium MiHllllllllirilll  HI    [HI  III  |   III)  HI   HI 

A     000  844  542     1 


